Ten of Swords
by Ladytremere
Summary: A young detective's investigation leads her to a world of vampires that she never knew existed. Based on White Wolf's Vampire: The Requiem. COMPLETE
1. Day One

Author's Note: This story is an attempt to get acquainted with White Wolf's new World of Darkness setting. It ought to be readable to those not familiar with the setting, as it will begin through the eyes of a mortal. It is rated R for violence which will include rape.

It was just a bit past midnight, and Detective Brenda Wild was just packing up her things and about to head home for the night when the phone on her desk rang. She reached over and grabbed the receiver.

"Detective Wild," she answered.

"Wild," came the voice of Lourdes Gonzalez, her boss. "I have a case for you, an important one."

"Yes?"

"The Mayor's daughter, Grace Simmons has disappeared. I've emailed you the information available so far. Her nanny was the last person to see her, and someone has already spoken with her, but I would suggest you start there. Because of the importance of this case, I'm reassigning everything else you had to Detective Jones. Please email him everything you've been working on so far."

Brenda sucked in her breath. She dared not argue. This was the sort of case that could make her career, if she was successful in finding the little girl. Cases like this were time sensitive, and the majority of them ended with the recovery of a corpse. But because Grace Simmons, the Mayor of Denver's seven year old daughter was connected to someone important, there was more likelihood that someone had kidnapped her as some sort of leverage, which meant she was more likely to be found alive. Brenda preferred the cases in which she actually found the missing person still alive. "I'll get right on it."

"Good. I'll leave you to it. Don't forget to check your email."

"All right. Anything else?"

"Good luck."

Brenda put the phone down and sat back down at her desk, turning her computer back on after having only shut it down minutes earlier.

She spent the next several minutes retrieving and printing the information Gonzalez had sent her, and sending all the information from her other cases to Jones, along with the details of the plans Brenda had made for her next moves.

Once she had everything together, she shut everything down once more and headed outside to her Honda CRV, and drove back to her apartment. It was a fairly nice apartment for Denver. The security door and all of the individual buzzers actually worked, and it was free of pests. Her apartment also had plenty of space for her things, and could even accommodate another person if Brenda ever felt so inclined, but she rather enjoyed being on her own.

She hung her coat and purse next to her front door, and walked over to her answering machine to play back her messages.

"Brenda, it's your dad. I was just wondering when you thought you might be free to have dinner with me like we'd talked about. Let me know. I love you."

Brenda smiled as she erased the message. Her father was retired from the FBI now, and had no doubt already gone to bed. She'd have to give him a call in the morning, and admit that she honestly had no idea when she'd be free. She had to give Grace Simmons top priority. One had to do such things when dealing with missing persons investigations. Otherwise, they became homicide investigations.

She would have to contact Jennifer Fast in the morning. The file said that she was a college student who had mostly afternoon and evening classes, so she was likely to be available by tomorrow morning.

With a yawn, Brenda walked back toward her room, slipping off her blouse as she did so, dropping it into her hamper when she'd reached her room. She removed the rest of her clothing and did the same with it, and then walked to her dresser, carefully removing the bobby pins from her wavy red hair, allowing it to fall loosely around her pale, freckled shoulders before crawling into the warmth of her bed and closing her eyes for the night.

In the morning, she ate a light breakfast after her shower, and then decided it was late enough that she wouldn't feel guilty for waking Ms. Fast. She usually preferred an amicable approach to those who were not suspects. No showing up unannounced on doorsteps. Brenda called Jennifer Fast on the phone. It was picked up after a single ring.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the line was anxious, and Brenda immediately suspected that the nanny hadn't slept all night. "Ms. Fast? I'm Detective Brenda Wild with the Denver Police Department—"

"Have you found anything out yet?"

"Well, I've just begun, and I would like to get together and speak with you about it. I know you've already been questioned, but I'd like to talk to you myself."

"Of course."

"How soon can I meet with you?"

"Um . . . would eleven o'clock be okay? Um, at Netherworld? Do you know where that is?"

"I can find it," Brenda assured her. "I'll see you then."

After setting the phone down, Brenda spent the next hour doing her morning exercises, and then taking a second shower.

Some people implied that Brenda's life seemed rather dull, but Brenda was rather content with her routine. She usually worked in the afternoon until late at night, which meant she could sleep in late, and occasionally, on very rare occasion, she actually recovered a missing person. It was a rare thing these days for a missing person case not to turn into a homicide investigation.

Café Netherworld had a tiny parking lot consisting of only six spaces, on the corner of Thirteenth and Pennsylvania. Brenda pushed through the door and glanced around. The lighting within was dim, with most of the windows blackened. A waitress with brightly colored magenta hair smiled distractedly in Brenda's direction as she ducked behind the bar to grab a Fat Tire.

Rammstein was playing on the juke box, and there were computers and stools along the wall directly to Brenda's right. At one of the tables in the corner, a young woman sat alone. Her red hair matched the picture Gonzalez had sent. Brenda made her way toward the table, reaching into her bag to withdraw her notebook that had a pen stuck inside the wires. "Jennifer?" she asked.

The young woman nodded. Now that Brenda had a closer look at her, she could see that her eyes were bloodshot, and the skin around them looked red. "Detective . . . I . . . can't remember your name," she said, looking away from the glass of water sitting in front of her. A lemon wedge lay on a napkin next to the drink.

"Wild. Brenda Wild," she said, sitting down across from Jennifer. "Now, can you tell me what you were doing last night, where you last saw Grace?"

Jennifer nodded. "I wasn't actually expecting to sit for her last night. They called me at the last minute, but I didn't have any classes last night, so I said okay. I took her out to Chuck E. Cheese, and it was in the cheese maze that I lost her. I don't even understand how. She went in, and she never came out. I went in looking for her, and it was weird. It seemed so much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. And there was this weird blue powder on the floor."

"Blue powder?" Brenda couldn't think of anything that should be blue and powdery from the top of her head. "Do you have any of it, maybe stuck on your clothes or anything?"

Jennifer looked down, and then nodded, slowly raising her shoe up to the table. Sure enough, there was a faint blue smear on the black combat boot.

Brenda hadn't expected to be collecting physical evidence at this meeting, so she was ill-equipped, but she grabbed a napkin and carefully folded it around the shoe, pressing down and pulling the napkin away to collect some of the powder. She carefully folded up the napkin with its contents and put it in her pocket so it wouldn't get lost. "Thank you. I'll have this analyzed. Now, is there anything else out of the ordinary you recall from last night? Did anyone pay an inordinate amount of attention to you? Was there anyone there without a family?"

Jennifer shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember anything."

Brenda nodded. "It's okay. But sometimes something you thought was insignificant can turn out to be important. Listen, if you remember anything at all, no matter how trivial it might seem, please call me." She reached into her purse and pulled out a card that had her cell phone number on it.

"Thanks. Will you be able to find her?" Jennifer asked.

"I'll do everything I can," Brenda answered, afraid to say anything more.

Brenda was able to find Tom and Jesse at the crime lab when she went in with her folded up napkin. The two of them were the socially awkward sorts, young mad scientists, as Brenda fancied them. They also flirted mercilessly with her, and she rather enjoyed the attention, harmless though it was. She suspected that one of them would be much better company at night than her vibrator, but it wouldn't be worth the resultant complications.

"Hey guys," she said, smiling as Tom turned toward her, his green eyes lighting up as they met hers. "I was wondering if you could analyze this stuff," she said, holding out the napkin. "It's from a crime scene. I had to scrape it off a girl's shoe."

Tom opened up the napkin carefully, while Jesse waved at her from across the room.

Brenda rolled her eyes and waved back.

"No problem. It'll be easy enough to separate from the normal shoe-dirt. We'll give you a call as soon as it's done?"

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Where are you off to now?" Jesse asked.

"Chuck E. Cheese," she replied.

Brenda was relieved to find that Chuck E. Cheese was open when she arrived. She hadn't been sure if it was only open in the evenings for parties. But it was a Saturday, so she was in luck regardless. Of course lots of families liked to have afternoon parties for their kids.

She spoke briefly with the manager who'd been working the night before, but found he knew little of use to her. He handed over surveillance videos from the previous night for Brenda to look at when she returned to the station. He'd sectioned off the cheese maze already, so Brenda decided to have a look around there herself. Perhaps there was a crawl space underneath that someone could have hidden in with the little girl. It would explain why Jennifer hadn't seen Grace come out of the maze.

There were small shelves for children to put their shoes before entering the maze, which was adjacent to the ball room. Brenda glanced briefly in the direction of the multicolored balls housed within soft netting, and then turned to the small entrance into the bright yellow cheese maze.

She had to stoop so low to enter that it was easier to simply crawl. She didn't see what Jennifer was talking about when she'd said that it seemed larger on the inside. This was a claustrophobic person's worst nightmare. The maze was definitely not intended for adults. In the cramped quarters, Brenda began her exploration of the last place Grace Simmons was known to have been.

She'd been searching about for nearly half an hour when her phone rang. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, reluctantly allowing herself to rest her butt on the dirty floor. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Jesse. How're you doing?"

"Well, I'm a little cramped right now-"

"I don't want to hear about your female problems now!" he protested.

Brenda laughed softly. "It's really not what you're thinking. What's up?"

"I identified that blue powder you brought in. It's actually a type of incense called Blue Lotus Dream, and there's only one shop in the Denver area that makes it."

Brenda reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook, sliding her pen out from the rings, and quickly scribbled down the name of the incense. "Where's that?"

"It's called Seventh Dream Metaphysical Supplies. It's on the corner of Colfax and Race. And they actually have really weird hours. They're only open from eight p.m. to four a.m."

"Weird," Brenda commented. "I guess they must cater to a night crowd." Still, it seemed strange that they wouldn't have a day staff. She supposed it was possible they simply couldn't afford to. "Thanks, Jesse. I'll talk to you later."

"Don't work too hard now."

Brenda shook her head as she pushed the 'End' button on her phone and put it away again. She couldn't afford not to work hard and Jesse knew it. Someone's life hung in the balance.

As she began to crawl forward, she finally found a torn bit of carpet, underneath which was a metal latch. She lifted it up and back, revealing a staircase leading downward. It was too dark to see down there, but she pulled her flashlight out of her purse and shone it downward. It looked like a much neglected boiler room. She doubted that it had been used since the building's current owners had taken it.

She slowly began her way downward, spotting a splatter of dried blood on one of the stairs. She reached into her purse and found a nail file, wishing she had better forensic equipment as she took a small scraping of the blood. She put it away carefully, wrapping it in a Kleenex to keep it safe. At least Tom and Jesse would be forgiving about her method.

She looked around the room, finding only one door, behind which was impassable rubble. And a very large hole in the floor, large enough for a fully grown adult to pass through. She pointed her flashlight below, and it looked as though it let out in a tunnel of some sort. She realized it was most likely a bad idea to go down there alone, especially if the kidnapper was actually somewhere down there. She'd want back up. It was time to call together a search party.

The search party spent a few hours searching through what turned out to be steam tunnels. They found an exit that had been in recent use, which led to a train yard. Asking a few more questions revealed more people who had evidently seen nothing at all, but that the trains mostly led to various cities around Kansas.

If Grace Simmons had been taken across state lines, it was time to get the FBI involved in the search. Brenda paid a brief visit to the station, making a number of phone calls, and dropping off her newest sample with Tom and Jesse.

At last, it was late enough for her to go and visit the Seventh Dream Metaphysical Supply shop.

It was only a little after eight when Brenda arrived, and she did found the shop nearly empty. There were shelves of books, candles, incense, cards, and various oils. A young blond girl stood near a counter that displayed pewter jewelry beneath a glass. The girl couldn't have been any older than perhaps sixteen. "Can I help you find anything?" she asked in a sweet voice.

"Is there a manager I can speak with?"

The teenage girl straightened her shoulders. "I'm the manager," she said with a smile.

Brenda quickly shook off her surprise. "Detective Brenda Wild," she said, pulling out her badge to show the girl.

"I'm Sasha," she said, looking at Brenda with curiosity.

"I was wondering if you are fairly familiar with most of your customers. Would you be likely to remember who purchased a certain type of incense?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "Which incense?"

"Blue Lotus Dream."

Sasha wrinkled her nose for a moment. "That's really not one of our popular ones. In fact, I'm confident that I haven't sold it to anyone in the past year. But you might wanna talk to the owner."

"Thank you," Brenda replied.

"If anyone bought that, he'd remember. We don't sell much of it . . . it's kinda stinky," she whispered.

Brenda smiled politely.

"Hey Sanji! There's a cop out here who wants to talk to ya!" Sasha shouted toward a mostly closed door.

An elderly man who appeared to be of Indian heritage stepped out of the back room, looking Brenda up and down with assessing brown eyes that did not appear unkind. "How may I help you?" he asked in a heavily accented voice. Brenda guessed he was somewhere in his sixties.

"I'm Detective Brenda Wild, and I was hoping you would recall who has recently purchased your Blue Lotus Dream incense," Brenda repeated herself to the old man.

He nodded. "Only two people have purchased that in the past year. One was a regular customer of mine, by the name of Simon Graymir. He was going to use it to banish negative energy from his apartment. The other was a woman I'm less familiar with, but who bears the same name as young Sasha here."

Brenda hastily wrote notes in her book. "What did this woman look like?" she asked.

"She had a very angry look to her, as if she sought someone to lash out at, a reason to become violent."

"How old do you think she was?" Brenda asked, wondering for a moment how sketch artists could bear to do their work.

"Late twenties I suppose."

"Was she Caucasian?"

He nodded. "Yes, with black hair. Not dyed like many of our customers. And she dressed in flannel."

Brenda continued to take notes in her book. "And what about Simon Graymir?"

"He is slight of frame, like I am, with blond hair, and he wears glasses."

This was at least slightly more helpful than the woman's description. "And his approximate age?"

"Early thirties. Here. I can write down his address for you." Sanji went to the desk and withdrew a small slip of paper on which he wrote the address, and then handed it to Brenda. "May I ask what this is in regard to?"

She glanced up at him. "Some of this incense was found at the scene of a crime," she said carefully.

"Perhaps I can help you. If you would like, I'll do a reading for you," he offered.

"All right," Brenda agreed, figuring she had nothing else to do for the night anyhow. She shouldn't reasonably go and pursue questioning Mr. Graymir or this Sasha woman so late at night.

"Follow me," Sanji said, leading her into the back room, which was dimly lit by a few candles. There was a small table with a dark blue cloth over it, and two chairs. "Sit down. I will burn some of this incense for the reading, as it relates to your case, so that it will help us."

Brenda sat down and waited for Sanji to retrieve the incense and get it burning, before he sat down with a deck of tarot cards, which he began shuffling.

"I need you to concentrate now on your case . . . I don't believe you told me what it is about."

"A little girl has gone missing," she told him.

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment as he continued to shuffle. After doing so for a short period of time, he laid down the first card. It was labeled 'The Moon,' and depicted something more like a sun, but with a crescent moon inside it, shining brightly. Below, two dogs looked upward at it, and a scorpion crawled out of the water behind them. "This card represents your experience to date. It appears here that you don't truly believe you are going to be successful with your investigation. You want to find the child, but you are already expecting to fail."

Brenda wanted to deny his words, but at the same time, she knew how rarely someone was actually rescued from their captors. And every hour that passed was an hour lost, even with the FBI beginning to search in other states.

Sanji then laid down another card. It was labeled 'Judgment,' and it depicted an angel with a trumpet looking down from the sky upon some naked people who appeared to be rejoicing. "You have a change coming, and you must cooperate with this change."

The next card he placed revealed a man wielding a staff, apparently fending off six other staves.

"This card is your near future. The Seven of Wands indicates that you are ready for a change, and this will be a good one for you, even if you become frustrated. Not only must your circumstances change, however, but your inner self as well."

Brenda wondered if the card indicated a possible advancement in her career if she was successful in finding Grace Simmons. But she reminded herself that she didn't believe in these things at all.

The next card bore the image of a hand holding up a golden chalice which water flowed up and out of, then downward into a pool below. A dove bearing a circle with a cross on it was pointed downward toward the chalice. "This is your environment in the future," Sanji explained. "The Ace of Cups indicates a new beginning. You will find what it is you're looking for," he told her.

Brenda nodded.

"This next card represents the best that you can hope for," Sanji said, laying down 'The Hermit, which depicted an old, stooped man leaning on a staff, and holding a lantern in his other hand. "You will find help from someone else, someone able to enlighten you to help you to attain what you want."

"At least it wasn't the Death card," Brenda joked.

The last card Sanji laid down depicted a body, lying face down, impaled by ten swords through the back. Blood leaked out from the corpse, and although the night sky was black, the light of dawn was on the horizon.

Brenda supposed she'd spoken too soon.

Sanji looked from the card to Brenda for a long moment. "This is your final outcome. The Ten of Swords. There will be no resolution, no answers for you if you continue on your current course."

Brenda sighed. It appeared to her that what Sanji was avoiding saying was that she was going to die. No wonder she didn't buy into this crap. She politely nodded as he spoke.

"Now, the cards only predict what will come to pass if you continue on your current course. You can still change your destiny."

Except that she couldn't. She wouldn't. She wouldn't stop searching for Grace. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome, child. Please return if I can be of further assistance. This case saddens me greatly. A little girl belongs with her mother," he said softly.

Brenda nodded. "Thank you," she said again, but this time with sincerity. Whether she bought into this crap or not, she believed that Sanji was a kind old man. He'd been too kind to tell her that the cards were obviously predicting her death.


	2. Day Two

Brenda called her father first thing the next morning after getting showered and having her morning coffee. He'd left another message on her answering machine the night before, telling her that if she was too busy to visit him that it was okay, that he was pretty sure he'd be around for a few more years. The guilt trip had only been in jest, but it had worked nonetheless.

Brenda had always been much closer with her father than with her mother. She'd followed his footsteps as much as she could in life, and he'd always been the one she felt the most able to talk to. Her mother seemed like a distant, beautiful but alien creature. Brenda's parents had been divorced for more than ten years now. Her mother had felt neglected by her father's dedication to his career. She simply hadn't been able to understand.

Brenda cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she listened to the ring, and finally heard her father's voice answer.

"Hi, it's Brenda," she said immediately.

"Brenda?" he repeated slowly. "That name sounds familiar. Do I know a Brenda? It's been so long."

"Dad!" she shouted indignantly.

"You know I'm just kidding, hon. It's good to hear from you. You've been busy, huh?"

"Yeah, really busy. I'm sorry, but I just don't know when I'm going to have time to have dinner with you at this rate. I was just handed a really important case," she said, truly regretfully.

"I figured it was something like that. Do you think you'd have time for a quick lunch?"

"Sure!"

"Why don't you come and pick me up at eleven, then? And we'll go to our usual place."

"Sounds good. I'll see you then. I love you."

"I love you too, Brenda."

Brenda's lunch with her father was cut short when she was called back to the station to consult with the FBI about her progress in the case so far. Once she was finished with that, she decided to go and pay a visit to Simon Graymir.

His apartment wasn't difficult to find, and she was relieved to see that all of the apartment numbers had buttons on the buzzer before the security door. Since it was mid-afternoon on a Sunday she hoped that meant he would be home, rather than off at whatever job he had. She pushed the button and waited. After a minute or so with no response, she tried pushing it again.

"Yes?" a very groggy male voice asked.

"Simon Graymir? I'm Detective Wild with the Denver Police, and I'd like to speak with you," she said into the buzzer.

There was a pause, and then finally, "Would you mind coming back at night?"

Brenda hesitated, heaving a reluctant sigh. There was no reason to insist on barging into his apartment while he was obviously trying to sleep, she supposed. He must work nights. "What would be a good time?" she asked.

"Any time after nine, I'll be ready."

"Thank you." She waited, but there was no reply.

She supposed now was a good time to go and review Chuck E. Cheese's security tapes from her office.

She watched for the most part with the tapes on fast-forward. She saw Jennifer and Grace come in, but she didn't notice anyone who appeared unusual for a customer at a kids' restaurant. There was a small section where the tape became fuzzy, which she skipped past, only to come to the point when Grace went into the cheese maze. A bit farther along the tape, Jennifer was frantic and in tears. Brenda couldn't find anything else helpful on it. No one came close to fitting the descriptions Sanji had given her.

She rewound the tape back to just before the section that was full of static, and set it aside to view the next tape. She found even less on the other tape, although it also had a section of it that was full of static for some reason.

She picked up both tapes and headed back to the lab, where she found Tom and Jesse in front of the TV. It looked as though they were playing video games on Tom's Playstation. "Are you very busy?" she asked with a smirk.

The word 'Pause' immediately appeared on the television screen as both men turned to look back at her. "We can make time for you," Jesse said, looking back at her.

"Could you help me with these tapes? They're in need of some cleaning up."

"I can do that for you," said Tom, rising from his seat to come and take the tapes from Brenda.

"Thanks. I haven't found anything useful on them, but I'm hoping what I need is still on there." It had to be, of course. "I think I'm going to have to get an artist to talk to the owner of Seventh Dream," she said.

"You should ask Charlie," Tom suggested. "She's the best."

"Thanks. I'll do that. And after I give her a call, I'm gonna pick up some food. Do you guys want anything?"

"Burrito," Jesse said immediately.

"Burrito," Tom agreed.

"Taco Bell it is." Brenda began dialing on her cell phone as she headed out toward her car.

After a quick dinner in the office going over her notes, Brenda had agreed to meet Charlie at Seventh Dream Metaphysical Supplies. When Brenda got there, she found a few goth kids wandering about the shop, and was greeted by Sasha once more. The girl's wide blue eyes made her look so young. How did someone her age manage to work a graveyard shift and go to high school?

"You're back. Did you need to talk to Sanji again?"

"Yes. Actually, I have someone else on her way down here, a sketch artist. I was hoping he could help her draw a portrait of the woman he told me about last night."

Sasha nodded. "Why don't you come on to the back, then?" she said.

Brenda followed Sasha to the back room, and found Sanji sitting on a matt, cross-legged, with his eyes closed.

"Oh, he might be a few minutes," Sasha said, glancing in Sanji's direction. "Go ahead and sit down," she instructed. "Do you want some tea?"

Brenda nodded. "That'd be great."

Sasha passed through another doorway, and Brenda wondered if perhaps Sanji lived in the building he ran his shop out of. It wasn't long before Charlie was peeking her blonde head into the back room from the shop. Brenda smiled and waved her over.

"Is that him?" Charlie asked quietly.

Brenda nodded. "He's not quite ready.

Sasha came out of the other room with a steaming pot and a single tea cup. She spotted Charlie and paused. "I'll go get another cup," she said, setting down the pot and the one cup before turning back.

"You're not having any?" Brenda asked.

"Nah," Sasha said, waving her hand dismissively.

"You know, you don't have to stay if you have anywhere to go," Charlie said. "I'll be okay to do the sketch on my own."

Brenda nodded. "I do have someone else I'd like to meet with tonight."

"Go on, then. I'll be fine."

"Just . . . I wouldn't recommend getting a reading done," Brenda told the other woman, lowering her voice to a whisper. "They're a little bit dark."

"But now you just got me curious."

"Well, I warned you," Brenda said with a grin, deciding to take her leave to pay Simon Graymir another visit.

Simon was ready for her this time when Brenda pressed his buzzer. "I'll be right down," was his immediate response.

Brenda supposed at this point in time that he wasn't obligated to let her into his apartment. She waited patiently in the vestibule, and very soon, a man who just had to be him came out.

His hair was a light ash blond, short but just a little bit wavy. A set of glasses magnified his blue eyes, and he was of slight build, and dressed rather strangely in a white renaissance style shirt with a sash. He looked a bit awkward and eccentric, but was not unattractive, Brenda decided.

Brenda extended her hand toward him. "Simon Graymir? I'm Detective Wild."

He shook her hand very lightly and briefly, letting go of her hand quickly. His fingers were icy. "Nice to meet you. I'm actually expected by some people at this club, but if you'll come with me, we can talk there," he explained. "My car's a little bit too messy to hold another person, though," he added, looking a bit embarrassed.

"We can take my car if you want," Brenda offered.

He shook his head. "Why don't you follow me? It's not far, and that way you don't have to drop me off back here later."

"All right," Brenda said, quickly dismissing the notion that he was trying to get rid of her. If he'd wanted to avoid her, he simply could have avoided being home when he'd told her to arrive.

She climbed into her car and followed his Geo Metro approximately six blocks before he parallel parked along the street. She did the same, and met him outside a brick building that had a line of goths winding around it.

Simon went to the back of the line and Brenda joined him there, looking around at the goths ahead of her, dressed in black velvet and lace and vinyl, with their black hair and pale faces and intricate artwork drawn on their faces with black eye-liner. Brenda felt a bit out of place in her blue jeans and white blouse and minimal make-up.

"So, what was it you needed to talk to me about?" Simon asked her.

Brenda looked around them, and although she didn't like the public nature of their conversation, it didn't appear anyone was paying much attention to her. "I was given your name by Sanji, saying you'd purchased some incense from him," she began.

"Simon! What are you doing in line?"

A, incredibly striking blonde woman hurried to Simon's side. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a French twist, and she wore a slinky black velvet dress. Her blood red lips were full and shiny as if they were moist. Her dark brown eyes looked from Simon to Brenda.

"I have this detective here to talk to me," he explained, "and I thought it would be better to talk out here than in the noisy club."

"I'm Brenda Wild," Brenda offered to the blonde woman.

"I'm Liz, and it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you'll enjoy my club. Come inside, both of you. You can use my back room," she told them.

Brenda and Simon followed Liz into the club and through the crowd of dancers and the loud, pounding music, into a small, dimly lit room containing a leather couch, where Brenda and Simon sat down on opposite ends. "Can I get you anything, dear?" Liz asked Brenda, without bothering to look at Simon.

Brenda wasn't about to drink while still conducting interviews. "Just some water, thanks."

Liz smiled and headed out the door, leaving Brenda alone with Simon.

"What was it you were saying earlier?" he asked her.

"I'd been given your name by Sanji, saying you'd purchased some incense called Blue Lotus Dream. It was found at the scene of a kidnapping."

"When did he say I bought this incense?" Simon asked.

"Not terribly recently. About six months ago," Brenda told him.

"I think he has me mistaken for someone else."

"Are you sure? He seemed to know you. He said you were a regular customer there. It's been a while, are you sure you couldn't have forgotten?"

"I am," Simon nodded. "But I'd remember spending a thousand dollars on incense."

"A thousand dollars?"

Simon nodded. "I don't have that kind of money. I definitely don't make enough money that I could spend like that and not remember."

Liz entered the room then with Brenda's water. After handing it to her, she smiled and hurried out of the room.

"I guess that was why so few people had purchased it," Brenda said after smiling at Liz and taking a sip of her water. Looking into Simon's eyes, she was fairly certain he was telling her the truth. "But Sanji seemed so confident that it'd been you. He said you'd bought it to cleanse your home of evil spirits."

Simon shook his head, frowning deeply. "Our memories aren't always reliable," he said gently. "He could just have remembered me because he's so used to seeing me in there."

"I suppose." Brenda would have to pay Sanji another visit to try to get clarification.

"But listen, it sounds like this kidnapping has some occult connections . . . I'd like to help you if I can. I can act as a consultant. But it's just that I don't have a lot of money . . ." he turned away from her, looking somewhat ashamed. "If you'd be able to pay me . . ."

"I think that could be arranged, if you can find out for me what sorts of things this incense is used for," Brenda told him. She had enough authority to hire a consultant for things like this.

"Thanks. Here's my card," he said, handing her a white business card with his name and the label 'Occult Consultant' with his phone number and a list of prices on the back.

"Thanks. Let me give you mine, too," she said, reaching into her pocket for another of her cards. She'd been giving them out a lot recently. "I guess I'll go and try to talk to Sanji again."

He nodded.

She turned and headed out the door. As she wove her way through the crowd, she felt a hand touch her shoulder, and turned to find herself staring into Liz's brown eyes.

"Are you leaving already?"

"I'm afraid I still have a lot to do tonight," Brenda explained.

"Well, I hope you'll come back again soon," Liz told her before turning away to join a companion who looked incredibly out of place in the club.

The woman was a bit shorter than Liz, with black hair, but she was dressed in flannel and jeans, and she wore no make-up. She wore an angry scowl as she looked around herself at the other club patrons.

She fit Sanji's description.

"Excuse me," Brenda said, stepping toward the woman. "Is your name Sasha?"

The woman turned toward Brenda, her eyes full of suspicion. "Yeah. What do you want?"

"I'm Detective Wild, and I need to ask you some questions."

Sasha stared at Brenda, unmoving.

"Did you purchase some incense called Blue Lotus Dream some time ago?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Some of it was found at the scene of a kidnapping."

"Those fuckers! I'll fuckin' kill 'em!" Sasha snarled, clenching her fists.

Brenda stood still, not certain what to say. She felt she might be more likely to find something useful through this woman than through Simon.

"I bought it for a couple' a kids," she said.

"Can you tell describe them at all?"

"They smelled like blood."

Brenda tried to hide her frustration at everyone's inability to come up with a remotely helpful description of another person. "I see. Do you know who they are? Where I can find them?"

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'em," Sasha repeated to herself, and then sighed. "Usually under the overpass, over by I-70 and Airport Road. I'll take you to 'em if you want."

"Yes, please," Brenda said, moving toward the door along with Sasha. "Do you know what they wanted with this incense?"

Sasha shook her head angrily. "I didn't ask. I just needed money and a place to stay. And anyway, they seemed pretty scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah," Sasha replied as they came outside. "Give me your keys. I'm bad at giving directions."

"How about if I follow you?" Brenda suggested.

"If you don't mind me walking. I don't have a car," Sasha told her with a shrug.

Brenda groaned. She knew better than this, but she needed Sasha to lead her to the kids she'd bought the incense for so she could get some answers. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her car keys and gave them to Sasha.

To Brenda's disappointment, although not to her surprise, Sasha wasn't the best driver. Brenda found herself constantly demanding that Sasha slow down, and Brenda still reflexively pressed downward on her right foot, as if she had a brake on the passenger side of the vehicle.

Brenda was quite relieved when they reached the underpass with themselves and Brenda's car intact. Sasha got out and led Brenda to a battered chain link fence, where she squeezed through an opening that appeared to have been torn out of it. Brenda followed Sasha across a field and toward a small, red brick house. "He smells like blood again," Sasha muttered.

Sasha went to an open window and crawled through.

With a sigh, Brenda followed.

Huddled inside the dusty, run-down, furnitureless house were two teenagers, a boy and a girl, with pale faces and black hair. Their clothing was black and ragged, and they both wore dark eyeliner and black lip stick. They were both a bit emaciated, and had similarly structured faces.

"All right, you little shits," Sasha snarled. "You better tell me what the hell you did with that shit I bought you, right now."

They stared, wide-eyed, at Sasha. In the incredibly dim light, she looked so feral that she almost appeared to have claws.

Brenda quickly stepped forward. "I need to know what you did with some incense called Blue Lotus Dream. Sasha tells me she bought it for you."

"You better answer her," Sasha warned.

The boy nodded slowly. "We used it. For a sex ritual. It was supposed to bind our souls together," he explained, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Did you use all of it?" Brenda asked.

"Yeah," the girl said in a soft voice.

"Were either of you at Chuck E. Cheese yesterday?"

Both of the kids burst out laughing.

Brenda waited for them to regain their composure before continuing. "I guess that means no. Is there anyone else who might've had access to the incense you bought? Could someone have taken some of it?"

The boy shook his head. "No, we couldn't afford very much of it. We used all of it in our ritual."

Brenda was realizing she wasn't having a lot of luck here, and it seemed likely that the person she needed was the other person that Sanji had mistaken for Simon. "All right. Can I see your ID's, please?" she asked them.

Both kids reluctantly handed over their ID's.

Brenda copied down the information with the intent of running a check on them later. Both of them had the same last name, she noted. She hoped that was because they were married. She didn't want to contemplate the alternative. When she was finished, she handed back the ID's. "Can I find you here if I need to ask you any more questions? I might need a bit more help. You're not in any trouble," she added.

Both kids looked relieved.

"From her, you're not," Sasha said.

Brenda's cell phone began to ring.

"I can find my own way home," Sasha said. "I need a minute with these two kids," she said, glaring at them murderously.

Brenda was reluctant to leave the two teenagers alone with this angry woman, but the boy waved at Brenda to leave them alone.

By the time Brenda had crawled back out the window, her cell phone had stopped ringing. She dialed into the voicemail as she headed for her car.

"Detective, it's Simon Graymir. "I found out what that incense is used for. It looks like it has three different purposes. The first is to get control over a person, through a family member. The second is for communication with one's family member from afar. The third is to strengthen the bond between twins, through intercourse. Please give me a call if you have any questions."

Brenda grimaced. Twins. That was why they'd had the same last name. She shuddered as she climbed into her car and began her way back to Sanji's shop.

The shop was fairly crowded when Brenda arrived, and Charlie appeared to be long gone, but Brenda found Sanji easily enough.

"Miss Wild," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Can we talk in private?" she asked him, glancing around at all the people.

He frowned, and nodded. "I think the only place private at the moment is in the alley, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she said, following him out the front door and around the corner.

"Now, what is it you need," he asked her patiently.

"I've talked to Simon, and he doesn't remember buying that incense," she said.

Sanji looked confused for a moment, and then he frowned intensely. "I will speak with him," he said.

"Do you think it's possible that maybe someone else bought the incense around the same time Simon was in your shop? Can you remember at all?" she asked hopefully. It seemed her investigation was running into a brick wall.

"It's possible," Sanji said in a tone that implied that he did not believe in the possibility himself. "But let me speak with Simon, please. Come back here tomorrow, and we'll try to straighten this out."

"All right," Brenda said, not sure why Sanji believed speaking to Simon would help the matter. Simon had seemed quite certain he'd never bought that incense.

"You look like you should get some rest," he said.

"I'm sure I should. I guess it's a good time to do that." After all, it seemed she'd run out of leads for the night. "Thank you for your help." Brenda reached out and shook Sanji's hand.

Sanji blinked in surprise for a moment before clasping her hand in return with a startled smile.


	3. Death

Brenda was fairly tired and disheartened when she returned home. She'd stopped by the station briefly on her way back, finding Tom and Jesse still there, but Tom told her he wasn't having much luck with the video tapes. Although he was able to eliminate the static, there was a complete blur where there ought to have been a person. He promised to keep working on it, but he'd warned her not to get her hopes up.

She felt rather disheartened as she closed and locked her front door behind her. She dropped her keys, bag, and gun on the table and sliding her blouse over her head as she strolled toward her bedroom.

She was just nearing her bedroom door when a creak in the floor ahead of her alerted her to the presence of an intruder. She reacted instantly, turning on her heal to run back toward her discarded pistol, but already, she felt burly arms wrapping around her, pulling her backward. She screamed as loud as she possibly could. Her neighbors knew their neighbor was a police detective. Surely they'd call the police if they heard screams coming from her apartment.

A second man moved past Brenda as she struggled with her attacker, who held her immobile. She screamed a second time as the second man picked up her gun, and then she felt a hand over her mouth, and something cold and sharp pressing itself against her throat. She'd lost the struggle, and so quickly. She immediately went still and fell silent.

"She's a cop. She's gotta have cuffs around here," said the man Brenda could see as he began rifling through her bag. He found her hand cuffs quickly enough, and walked out of Brenda's sight range for a moment. When he returned, he was holding a baseball bat.

Brenda could do nothing but stare helplessly at the bat as the man moved closer to her.

"This is going to hurt," he told her. "It's gonna hurt a lot."

Brenda squeezed her eyes shut just before the blow slammed into her ribs. Indeed, it did hurt a great deal, and she screamed against the hand that covered her mouth. She went limp immediately afterward, hoping that would help her to avoid another blow. When her attacker found himself supporting her dead weight, his grip loosened, and he reached for her wrists to put the hand cuffs on her.

Now was her chance. She lunged forward, screaming once more, but his grip immediately tightened on her wrist as he yanked her arms backward and behind her, snapping the handcuffs into place. She managed one more scream before his hand once again clamped over her mouth.

This time, she knew there was no escaping the baseball bat. Luckily, it wasn't long before she was rendered unconscious beneath the merciless blows.

Brenda woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She was in a very dark, moist place that she couldn't recognize. As she tried to reach her phone she realized that her hands were still cuffed behind her, and there was agonizing pain in her ribcage. She struggled against the pain and her restraints to get a finger into her pocket where she kept her cell phone. All she needed to do was push the talk button. She silently begged the caller not to hang up as she fought to get a finger on the right button.

At last, she met with success.

"Hello? Hello?" Simon's muffled voice called from her pocket.

"Simon?" Brenda called out, hoping that he was able to hear her. Perhaps he could figure out where she was and send people to find her.

"Where are you? You sound . . ." Simon's voice was muffled completely by static. ". . . answer . . ." Finally, Brenda heard a beep that indicated her phone's battery had just died.

Brenda lay shivering on the wet floor, fighting off tears of frustration. Surely Simon would guess that she was in trouble and contact the police. He had to.

She was so cold. She wished she hadn't been so foolish as to take off her blouse so soon after entering her apartment. She wondered if she might catch pneumonia laying there in the cold air on the wet floor in only her bra and jeans.

"You need to learn not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong," said a masculine voice.

Brenda could only make out a silhouette in the darkness. A silhouette that walked toward her slowly, purposefully, whose presence filled her with an inexplicable revulsion. Was this Grace's kidnapper? Had Brenda been closer than she'd thought? For an instant she forgot her dire situation and felt a moment of triumph. But as he stepped closer to her, she felt only a primal sense of dread.

"But as long as I have you here," he said, reaching down and taking hold of her bra.

Brenda squirmed in an attempt to escape his hands, and then let out a scream that was half-sob as the movements caused her to feel the pain of her injuries with renewed intensity.

"I wouldn't do that," he told her as he tore at her bra, breaking it open. "If you squirm, you're only going to worsen your injuries, and you'll probably die. If you just lay still and try not to struggle, you might live."

Brenda knew he was right, as much as every instinct within her wanted her to fight him, to try to escape, she knew she was in no condition to fight him, hand-cuffed and badly injured. She would have to try to endure what was about to happen. She needed to survive to be rescued later, for Grace . . .

Her captor drew something shiny from within his clothes, and Brenda instinctively knew it had to be a knife.

She fought to keep her breathing even as he lowered it down toward her waist and hooked a finger beneath her pants. As he began cutting them away from her, she lay perfectly still, a part of her just wishing for him to get the act over and done with. Of all the rape victims she'd ever spoken to, no one had ever mentioned the sickening anticipation as she waited for the inevitable to occur. Her breath now came in short, panicked gasps, but she did not squirm.

At last, he pulled her ruined jeans away from her body, leaving her completely naked except for her cotton underwear. He leaned close to her, his fingers stroking her hip. "What do you know?" he whispered in her ear.

Brenda found herself unable to think of a single thing to say to him. She didn't want to talk to this man, this monster who kidnapped children and who now slid his hand down into her underwear. She swallowed down the bile that rose up within her throat as she felt his wet tongue on her neck.

"You taste delicious," he practically purred.

She tried to turn her head away, but she felt his teeth grazing her throat, and then she was suddenly, inexplicably, delirious with ecstasy. The reasoning part of her knew she'd been bitten, although the sensation she was experiencing was beyond her ability to reason. It was pleasure like nothing she'd ever experienced before, and yet, beneath it all she was still overwhelmed with revulsion. It was with these two conflicting sensations that she blacked out.

When she regained her senses she was still filled with revulsion. She could feel blood crusted on her neck where she'd been bitten, and her captor was on top of her, inside her, thrusting, fucking. Her body shook with the force, and the pain in her ribs was unbearable. She lay beneath him, helpless, weeping, unable to be the brave girl her parents had always insisted that she was.

When he finally finished and withdrew, she could feel liquid trickling from herself, down her thighs. He rose to his feet. "Goodnight, my dear," he said as he adjusted his clothing and began to walk away.

He was going to leave her to die. If she didn't say something to him now, she might never get the chance. "People will be looking for me," she said in a wavering, meek voice she hardly recognized as her own.

He paused. She imagined he turned back to look at her, but it was too dark for her to know. "They won't find you," he said.

The only sound other than her ragged breathing was his retreating footsteps


	4. Rebirth

Brenda found the pain to be the most bearable when she was unconscious. She preferred to remain unconscious for as much time as possible, so that she was not forced to dwell as consciously on her predicament, the horror she'd been subjected to, and the agonizing pain in her rib cage.

It was difficult for her to guess at the passage of time as she slept as much as she possibly could. She was fairly certain that her captor did not intend to return. He'd left her there to die, either from her injuries, starvation, or the shivering, wet chill that had become almost numbing. It was a slow, cruel way to murder a person. She was lying in a shallow pool of rank water, and in desperation, she drank some of the water she rested in, figuring it would either help to hydrate her, or perhaps, if it was toxic, speed up the inevitable.

She lost count of the number of times she'd vomited afterward. The air around her stank of it, as well as of urine. Once, she woke up to find herself choking, and turned her head to the side to let herself vomit properly, and then she wondered if she'd made a mistake. She remembered having heard somewhere that starvation was an excruciatingly painful way to die. Yet she'd heard the same thing about drowning.

The truth was, despite everything, she wanted to live. She just couldn't fathom how she could achieve such a thing in her situation. If death was to be the end result, surely a swifter one would be preferable, but what if dying prematurely caused her to miss out on a rescue attempt?

She wanted to believe that she would be found, but the part of her that hoped for that had died at some point while her captor was fucking her. That was when she'd been forced to understand that he had all of the power. He could do whatever he wanted, and no one would stop him. She was powerless. She was lost.

As the sound of wet, echoing footsteps came to her ears, ideas raced through her mind. The first thought, surprisingly, was that she was about to be rescued. But she quickly realized that it was more likely her tormenter returning to either torment her further, or perhaps simply kill her. She could see a dim light coming from the direction of the sound, and didn't recall her captor using any light. But she couldn't be sure. She lay still, hoping he'd somehow forget where he'd left her and fail to find her.

"I sense that she is this way," said an accented voice that was familiar to Brenda. It was Sanji.

The footsteps came closer, and she waited for him and whoever he was with to find her, but could she be sure that they would? She needed to call out, to alert them, but she was so dehydrated that she wasn't sure she'd be able to find her voice. She drew in her breath and tried to yell, but found herself choking instead, and then coughing. After a fit of coughing, she tried again, the sound coming out unintelligible, but it came out loud, and that was what mattered.

The footsteps came closer, and in a moment, a light shone on her, and she could see two silhouettes behind the flashlight. One of them rushed to her side, and as the flashlight swept over her naked, shivering, filthy and broken body, she saw Simon bending over her, a look of horror on his face as he drew in his breath sharply. It was almost a gasp, and Brenda felt a chill run through her seeing his reaction. It felt as if she wasn't a person now, but a victim.

"I fear we are too late," said Sanji from several feet away.

She stared into Simon's blue eyes beyond the lenses of his glasses. "I need a hospital," she said slowly, painstakingly, never taking her eyes away from his.

"We cannot move her," Sanji said. "She will not survive."

Brenda swallowed and felt herself beginning to tremble. She wanted to say more, to argue, but it was so difficult to speak, and it hurt.

"I'm sorry," Simon said, now crouched before her. "We won't be able to get you to a hospital. You won't make it. If you want to live, there is something I can do. But you'll be forever changed. The decision is yours."

Forever changed? She didn't know what the hell he was babbling about. She already was forever changed. One didn't come out of an ordeal like this one intact. She nodded her head, not wishing to try to use her voice any more.

"Very well." Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth. He reached out and wiped at her neck, where the blood had dried on, where her captor had bitten her.

She lay still, watching him curiously, silently grateful that he was cleaning her up a little. It was a small thing, but it was important to her, restoring a tiny fraction of the dignity that she'd lost. As he leaned toward her, however, she was startled by this and she tried to pull away. She wasn't sure he even noticed her recoiling from him. She felt his lips on her throat, then, in the same place she'd been bitten before.

But then, much like before, came ecstasy as he bit her. It wasn't entirely like before. It was somehow sweeter, perhaps because she didn't feel the revulsion for him that she'd felt for her captor, and that she was somehow unafraid of Simon. She closed her eyes, awash in the sensation, unaware of anything else, only the sweetness as he drained her. She could feel herself growing weaker there beneath him. She could feel that she was being drained, but the pain and misery she'd felt before were entirely gone, banished by the most intense pleasure she'd ever known. It was every bit as wonderful as her previous experience had been horrifying.

She could hardly keep her eyes open as Simon at last drew back from her. She was so weak and tired, but mercifully, the weakness was so intense that it numbed her previous pain. She watched him in awe, struggling to retain her awareness as he lifted his wrist to his lips, which seemed to glisten in the dim light. He bit into his wrist and held it toward her. She could see blood beginning to well forth from the wound. "You need to drink this," he instructed.

Drinking his blood was one of the last things Brenda wished to do, but she had little choice as Simon pressed his wrist against her mouth, and she felt the blood trickle between her lips.

The taste sent a shock through her, and she opened her mouth wide to cover more of the wound, to let it into her mouth. What she tasted could not be described as anything less than life itself. She tasted her salvation. She drank this life-giving liquid without regard for anything else, sucking at it and swallowing each drop voraciously. It was strength that she was drinking. It was everything she needed. She needed all of it, all that he would give her.

It seemed far too soon that his wrist was torn away from her greedy lips and she began to come to her senses. She was sitting upright, and in terrible pain. With hardly a conscious thought, she called upon the blood inside of her to mend her injuries, and felt the pain gradually beginning to subside. As she did so, she began to feel a growing thirst, so she forced herself to stop before it was too late, fearful of what might happen if she did otherwise.

At last, Brenda felt aware enough to remember her modesty. She went to wrap her arms over her breasts, but only found herself jerking at her handcuffs so hard that she nearly toppled forward.

Sanji stepped toward her then, and she saw that he had what appeared to be a blanket. He draped it in front of her, wrapping it around her shoulders as Simon rose and walked around behind her.

"I don't suppose you know where the key to these are?" he asked, fingering her handcuffs.

"Probably still in my apartment," she said.

"Just give me a moment. I'll get them open," Simon assured her.

She still felt a bit dazed, but thought perhaps her mind was working better than before. She'd been bitten, now by two men. She'd drunk blood, and it had revived her and made her strong. As impossible as it seemed, there was only one explanation for it all. And as quickly as she realized what Simon was, what she'd become, she also decided she didn't care. She wanted to live, and it had been the only way. She might never have believed it if he'd explained it to her before the deed.

After fumbling with her wrists for a few minutes, Brenda felt one of her wrists released from its hold. She reached out with that hand and gripped the blanket Sanji had given her. "Can you get the other one?" she asked, wishing to get as far away from those hand cuffs as possible.

"We cannot waste any more time, or we risk your captor's return," Sanji said, pulling Brenda to her feet.

Brenda nodded, feeling a new surge of fear course through her. She'd hoped that her captor been arrested by now. She'd considered herself out of danger once Sanji and Simon had arrived, but that was ridiculous. She wrapped the blanket more fully around herself as she prepared to follow Simon and Sanji out of this wretched place. "The man who had me here . . . " She needed to tell them, needed to know if they could tell her anything. "He bit me, like you did," she said turning to Simon. "Do you know who he is?"

"A vampire," Simon said. "Like we are. We figured out that the person you've been after was a vampire, because Sanji remembered me buying incense I never purchased from him. Some vampires have the ability to appear like someone a person is expecting to see, rather than as they truly are," he explained.

"But do you know who he is?" she repeated as Sanji led them both through dark tunnels. Brenda's feet made soft little splashing noises as she walked. Simon made hardly any noise at all.

"No. I'm sorry."

She nodded, unable to think of a reply. He was still out there. He might come after her when he discovered she was gone, that she'd been rescued. She pulled the blanket more tightly around herself.

"It's not a good idea for you to return to your apartment," Simon said.

Brenda began shaking her head vehemently, still unable to find words to express the horror she felt at the prospect of returning to her apartment. Her apartment was not safe. She could never be safe there again. It had been so easy for her to be found there, to be taken from there. She wanted to hide.

"You can stay with me for now," Simon continued. "You're going to need to disappear," he said apologetically.

She simply nodded. She was too frightened to do anything but disappear. She couldn't let that monster find her again.


	5. Mekhet

Brenda soon felt lost as she followed Sanji and Simon through the dark tunnels. Perhaps under normal circumstances, when she wasn't so overwhelmed, she'd have kept better track of where they were. She'd likely even have drawn herself a little map in her notebook. But she didn't have her notebook, and she didn't know if she'd ever be able to refer to anything about herself as normal again.

At last, they reached a ladder going up, where everyone stopped. "You may go first," Sanji told her.

Brenda fumbled for a few moments with the blanket she had wrapped around herself, sliding it off of her shoulders to tuck it beneath her arms like a very long bath towel. Still, it was a bit long and would make climbing the ladder awkward. She did the best she could, eager to get out of the darkness and into the . . . moonlight. Sanji and Simon turned their backs as she climbed, until she'd reached the top.

She had climbed up in the middle of the street, which thankfully was fairly empty at that time of night, aside from having cars parked up and down it in every available space. She could see Simon's apartment close by.

After another moment, Simon and Sanji had climbed out as well.

"I had best be returning to my shop," said Sanji. He came to stand before Brenda, a grave expression on his face. "I am sorry for what happened to you," he told her.

"Thank you," she said in a soft voice she hardly recognized. She wasn't sure what else she was supposed to say, or what else Sanji could say to her.

"Come on," Simon said gently, leading her around to the back of his building. She climbed up the fire escape ahead of him and then struggled to get through the open window without losing the blanket she had wrapped around herself.

There was a board nailed to the inside of the open window, in theory so that it would shut out the sunlight completely when it was closed. The open window worried Brenda a great deal. What if someone knew Simon had helped to save her? Brenda always locked the door to her apartment and men had still gotten inside. And Simon left his window open?

The apartment was quite dark once Brenda had gotten inside. Her eyes adjusted quickly. The room was cluttered with books. Simon seemed to have fit them into every space he could manage. A laptop computer sat on a small kitchen table. There was an open closet next to the dead bolted front door, and Brenda could see that no one was hiding in it. The bathroom door was open as well, although Brenda couldn't see far in. Someone could be hiding in there. There was one other closed door that Brenda assumed led to Simon's bedroom. Someone could be hiding in there.

Brenda supposed she would be sleeping on the couch that sat against the wall next to a tall book shelf.

After Simon crawled through the window, he reached out for Brenda's wrist, examining the handcuffs. He held a small pin between his fingers and began working to unlock them. "You can take a shower," Simon told her as the cuffs snapped open and Brenda pulled her wrist free. "There are clean towels in the cabinet."

She nodded gratefully, fairly certain that she smelled terrible. In addition to still feeling bruised and sore, Brenda knew that she was filthy. She needed to wash away her blood and other fluids, in addition to the grime left when that man had violated her. It made her skin crawl to thinking about it.

She approached the bathroom cautiously, aware that perhaps her behavior would appear silly to Simon, but the bathroom would be an easy place for someone to hide. She reached in from outside to flick the light on, and then jerked her arm back out as she peered in. The bath tub's shower curtain was closed. She moved in slowly, as quietly as possible, and then yanked the curtain aside and leaped back out the bathroom door. After she was satisfied that it was empty, she went in, avoiding looking back at Simon as she closed and locked the door behind her.

She allowed the blanket to fall to the floor at her feet as she stepped to the tub to turn on the faucet. The fuzzy blue bathroom mat felt warm between her toes. She could hear what sounded like some sort of game show on a television somewhere above her. Simon's walls seemed much thinner than Brenda's own had been.

The noise was muffled when Brenda turned on the water and stepped into the shower. Soap was easy to find, and Brenda quickly set about the task of vigorously scrubbing the filth away from her skin, and then rubbing shampoo into her scalp. She repeated the actions more than once, unsatisfied. While her skin looked clean, she felt as if the grime was still there. The hot water ran out before Brenda felt she was finished, and she was forced to admit that soap was not capable of cleansing her the way she needed. Defeated, she sank to the floor of the tub and began to weep. She'd lost everything. Her body, her dignity, and her life. What did she have left?

As she rose to her feet and reached over to turn off the water she remembered that she had nothing to wear. She didn't own a single thing anymore. Of all the things she'd lost, she'd taken her clothes the most for granted. Uncertain what she was going to do, she remained in the shower for several more minutes.

She knew she couldn't hide in Simon's bathroom forever. Brenda shut the water off and sluggishly climbed out, dried herself off, and then found a comb. She painstakingly went about combing through the tangles in her hair, and then considered her options for modesty. She didn't want to walk out of there in only a towel. Simon had of course seen her in less, but that circumstance had been beyond her control. She needed her modesty. It felt like a sort of armor to her.

She looked down at the blanket she'd left on the floor. It had been wrapped around her, and was therefore dirty, but perhaps the other side of it, that which had been on the outside, would be okay. She could at least use that to get out of the bathroom, and then ask Simon if he had anything she could borrow to wear. She lifted it up and after careful examination, wrapped it around herself, dirty side out.

She peered out the bathroom door, and saw Simon seated in front of his computer at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette. There was also a black, lacy dress laid out on the couch. Brenda walked out slowly, studying the long, lacy dress before picking it up and draping it over her arm. "Did you have a girlfriend?" she asked.

Simon looked up at her, taking a drag off of his cigarette and blowing out the smoke slowly, shaking his head. "That belonged to an acquaintance of mine," he explained.

"Oh. Thank you." Brenda hesitated, watching him for a moment. "I'm grateful for what you've done," she told him.

"You're welcome. Let me know if there's anything else you need."

She walked back to the bathroom to put on the dress. It fit her fairly well. Not perfectly, but well enough. It was so long and lacy, and it reminded her of a wedding dress. It even had its own veil, which she opted not to wear. Something about the dress seemed symbolic. The black wedding dress. It symbolized a beginning. And an ending.

Brenda looked at herself in the mirror and thought she looked like a completely different person. The black dress made her pale skin appear even paler. She didn't think her freckles were as apparent either, as she studied herself. Still there, but somewhat faded. Had death done that to her? Her red hair, which she always wore up in some way hung around her face, falling well past her shoulders.

She felt self-conscious as she came back out of the bathroom to find Simon still seated at the computer. His eyes were on her as she stepped into his view, and she wished she could tell what he was thinking. "It's probably a good time to you to have your first feeding lesson," he said. "I can tell you're still in pain, and that will help you to heal."

Brenda nodded. Blood. She would have to drink blood.

"You won't need to kill in order to feed," Simon told her, calming the worry that had been just about to come off of Brenda's lips. "You, in fact, are young enough that you can sustain yourself entirely on animals for now. As you get older, you'll find that no longer enough for you, and you will need to feed on humans like I have to. It's something that you'll need to know how to do now. Besides, Denver isn't an easy place to find a lot of animals to feed on."

Brenda nodded silently.

"Liz's club will be a good place to start. She's one of us," Simon explained. "Her club is also her main means of sustaining herself."

"Oh," Brenda said to herself. "So that's why she was so nice to me . . ."

Simon frowned at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "She wasn't necessarily considering you for feeding purposes. She treats everyone at her club well."

"Okay." Brenda was glad, somehow, to know there was a woman among them. It might be a comfort to find herself a female friend she could talk to, about things that a man wasn't as likely to understand.

"You're going to need to try not to be recognized," Simon said, looking her over. "You do look fairly different already, but you should put some make-up on as well. I have some in there. Sometimes I wear it to fit in with the goths. It makes feeding easier."

"The police will be looking for me," Brenda agreed, obediently allowing Simon to lead her to the bathroom, where he opened up a drawer and began pulling out make-up far darker than any she would ever have considered wearing before. It was a good thing. She would look very different.

She spent several minutes trying to apply the make-up in a way that went against everything she'd ever been taught about cosmetics. Rather than trying to bring out her natural beauty, she went for stark contrast, making her face paler, smearing her lips with black lipstick, and applying heavy amounts of eyeliner around her eyes, and then putting on even more at Simon's prompting.

"Are you ready now?" Simon asked, nodding in approval.

"I am."

Simon led her back to the window, where Brenda hesitated.

"Do you always use the window? Aren't you worried about someone getting in here when you leave it open?"

Simon paused and turned to look at her. "I prefer not letting my neighbors see all of my comings and goings. And besides, there really isn't anything much in here to steal other than my lap top."

"It isn't robbery I'm worried about."

Simon's expression softened just a bit as he looked at her. "You'll learn soon enough that our clan is very difficult to ambush," he said gently, comfortingly. "Our senses are very sharp. If you take a moment to listen, you'll notice you can even hear the dog sleeping in the apartment above this one."

Brenda found it easy to do as he said, extending her senses, allowing each sound to come to her more clearly than she'd ever experienced in life. She could hear soft movement above, and the occasional whine of a small animal. She found herself smiling just a little. Maybe she wasn't as likely to be caught by surprise the next time someone came for her. "What is our clan?" she asked.

"We're called Mekhet," Simon told her. "Now, let's get going."


	6. The First Feeding

Brenda felt like a strange, morbid sort of bride in the outfit and make-up she wore. She pulled the veil down over her face to avoid immediate recognition. She was certain her picture had been on the television since she'd disappeared. When a police detective went missing, they were looked for.

The club was crowded when she and Simon arrived. Brenda kept her head down as Simon led her through the crowd, toward the back room where she'd spoken with him the first night she'd met him. She knew it had only been a few days, but it seemed so long ago now. She supposed it had been a lifetime.

In the back room, Liz was lounging on the lap of a large black man. She looked up when Simon arrived, with Brenda just behind him. She could sense something in Liz, she realized, that wasn't present in her companion. An instinct that told her Liz was a predator, and so was Simon, but she'd found herself used to that, as he'd made her. She could see in Liz's eyes the same realization as she looked from Simon to Brenda.

Simon cleared his throat. "Liz, I'd like you to meet my Childe," he said, gently taking Brenda's arm and leading her farther into the room.

"So, you're breaking Traditions now?" Liz asked in a light voice, a smirk playing at her full, shining red lips.

"It's nothing you wouldn't have done, Liz!" Simon said defensively.

Brenda nodded in agreement. "I'd have died if not for Simon," she said softly.

"And are you here now for a feeding lesson?" Liz asked.

Simon nodded.

Liz glanced down at the man she sat with. "Would you mind?" she purred.

He sighed, and extended his hand out toward Brenda. "From the wrist," he said.

Brenda approached him slowly, looking at the wrist uncertainly. She could see the vein beneath his skin, and imagined the pulse beneath it. She remembered the liquid she'd drank from Simon's veins, and felt an intense hunger rise within her at the memory. She reached out and took his hand gently, and lifted it toward her lips, feeling her canines elongate as she brought it closer. She'd expected to feel revulsion at this, but the need was so acute that she wasted no more time sinking her teeth into the tender flesh.

As the blood flowed into her mouth, she felt as if she'd been parched and this was the first sip of water she'd had in days. It wasn't as overwhelming as the experience she recalled with Simon earlier that evening. She felt much more aware of what was around her and in control of herself. But she still felt pleasure from drinking the man's blood.

"That's enough," Brenda heard Simon say as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She drew back, instinctively licking away at the blood that oozed from the wound, and finding to her surprise that it healed over completely as she did so. His wrist looked smooth, and the flesh unbroken. Brenda let go of him and stepped back, looking up at his face, self-conscious of the fact that she feared she may have given him the pleasure she remembered experiencing when she'd been bitten, and wondering how much experience he had at being fed upon.

The man drew his arm back and smiled politely at Brenda.

"Good," Simon said. "Do you feel better? Are you still hungry?"

"A little," Brenda said, answering both questions.

"Feel free to hunt around the club," said Liz.

"This is a good place for that," Simon said, gently taking Brenda's arm. "You're pretty enough that you should be able to draw people to you. Just go and find a conspicuous place to sit, and look like you want a drink. When someone comes along to buy you one, you find some place secluded, and lead them to believe that you're interested in them physically. A bite is quite welcome in such a situation. I'm going to try to feed a bit myself, so you'll be on your own for now."

Brenda nodded and followed Simon out of the back room, dragging her feet. She eyed the people in the club, and imagined the situation Simon had recommended. They'd be putting their hands on her, and she would have to endure it. Maybe normally she would have been fine with it, but the thought of being groped now simply turned her stomach. She didn't want to try to seduce anyone. She wanted to be alone. But she needed to feed.

She did as Simon had advised, finding a seat right at the bar, and looking out at the other patrons. A few people did make eye contact and smile at her, and when they did so, she froze up, and her reaction must have been quite obviously negative, because no one approached her. She knew, her body language demanded that no one come near. No matter how badly she needed to feed, she could not hide her reluctance to allow anyone to flirt with her.

Eventually, Simon was approaching her again, and Brenda found it difficult to meet the expression of pity upon his face. "Let's find you some animals to feed on," he said in her ear.

She nodded gratefully and followed Simon out of the club.

-

After having broken into the Denver Dumb Friends League, Brenda felt both guilty and worried, although she had finally healed her injuries. Although she hadn't killed any of the animals and Simon had ensured her that those she'd fed upon would recover, she knew she couldn't do that often. She would have to learn to feed from humans. Yet she felt that required too much intimacy for her.

She listened carefully as she crawled into Simon's window once more, and was eventually uneasily satisfied that no one lurked within his apartment. Simon followed behind her, closing the window and locking it, and then sliding the board into place so that no light was allowed in. After a moment of fumbling around, he turned on a small lamp near the couch. "You will not be able to go out in the sunlight anymore," Simon told her, in a tone that she couldn't decide whether it was meant to be apologetic or simply helpful.

"I suspected that was the case," she said, eyeing the boards on all of the windows. It seemed like a small loss to her, compared to her entire life that had been stolen.

"When the sun comes up, you'll grow sleepy anyway. You won't be able to stay awake easily," he explained, approaching the couch. "This unfolds into a bed," he told her, removing the cushions from it and setting them behind it.

Brenda joined him in unfolding the bed from within.

"I'll get you some blankets," he said, turning away and disappearing into his room.

He had two blankets and a pillow with him when he returned just a few minutes later, which he began spreading out over the small bed.

"Are you going to be in a lot of trouble for . . . doing this?" she asked.

"It's called the embrace," he told her. "The act of creating a vampire is called the embrace. And no. Not a lot of trouble. There are three Traditions we're all expected to follow, and the first of them is not to let mortals find out that we exist. Another one is not to embrace anyone. I expect I'm going to owe the Prince a favor when he finds out. It would be a good idea to introduce you to him as soon as possible, so he knows who you are. Most cities are ruled by a prince," Simon explained.

Brenda nodded slowly. "What is the other Tradition?"

"Don't destroy another vampire by drinking their soul," he told her.

Brenda almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the notion. "All right. I won't even ask how one does that."

Simon nodded. "I should warn you, though, not to drink blood from another vampire. Doing so will give that other vampire power over you. The more you do it, the more power they will have over you. Not only that, but you will become addicted to it."

"I drank your blood," Brenda pointed out. She'd seen what addiction did to people, and she wanted no part of it.

"Only during the embrace, and that won't make you into an addict. Don't worry."

"When were you embraced?"

"In the late nineteenth century."

"Who embraced you?"

Simon turned away from her and was quiet for a moment. "My Sire, the woman who embraced me . . . well, it's her dress you're wearing now."

"What happened to her?" Brenda pressed.

"She went away," he said. "I'd prefer not to talk about her if you don't mind."

"Okay." Brenda wasn't going to press him to discuss something painful to him. She wondered if his Sire had also been his lover. They'd lived together in this tiny apartment, obviously, since he still had some of her things. She wondered if her absence pained him. She wanted to know Simon, since she found herself so utterly dependant on him now, but she didn't want to risk alienating him. He was all she had. She'd have to give it time. She needed time herself, time both to heal from her horrific experience, and to mourn the loss of everything that had ever meant anything to her.

"Get some sleep," he said to her. "You'll be safe her, I promise. I'm sorry for what you've been through. You truly were a victim."

"Thank you," Brenda said uncertainly. She didn't like being called a victim, for it had connotations of pity, but didn't know what else to call herself. She preferred to call most women who'd experienced rape survivors. But she had not survived. There was no word but victim for her.

She watched as Simon walked away again, closing his bedroom door behind himself, leaving her alone. She crawled into the little bed and lay down, not feeling the slightest bit sleepy. Hadn't her notes about the case been left at her apartment? Simon's address had been in there. Had the two men gotten it? She doubted it, suspecting they'd have known to get her out of there as quickly as possible before police arrived, since she'd made so much noise.

But then the police would have her notes. Would they come to Simon's apartment to follow up on her questions with him? Or perhaps looking for her? He was one of the last people Brenda was known to have spoken to. She feared they would try to question him. What if they came during the day, as she had done at first?

She wondered how her parents were coping with her disappearance. She had trouble guessing at her mother, but it pained her to think of what her father must be going through. She'd always loved him more, even though you weren't supposed to love one parent more than another. She couldn't bear to think of her father mourning her. She imagined instead that he was relentlessly searching instead. Which she supposed was very dangerous. She didn't want him to find what she had found. She didn't want him to know what had happened to her.

Sleep took her quite unexpectedly and abruptly as the sun began to light the horizon outside, unseen to her. Her worries were quickly lost to unconsciousness.


	7. Elysium

Brenda woke so abruptly in the evening that at first she thought she must have been disturbed by some noise. She lay still, listening with her newly keen sense of hearing for a sound that could betray the presence of an intruder.

She eventually came to the uneasy conclusion that no one seemed to be there. Perhaps this was just how she would wake up from now on.

She slipped out of the bed slowly, as quietly as she could. No sound came from Simon's room, and Brenda didn't want to disturb him from his sleep yet. She made her bed, folding up the blankets, pushing in the bed, and replacing the cushions on the couch, and then went to take a shower.

By the time she was through, Brenda found herself faced with the same dilemma she'd experienced the night before. She didn't know what she would wear. There was a clean terry cloth robe hanging next to the towels, which she slipped into, but she still didn't have any real clothes.

When she came out of the bathroom she found an outfit laid out on the couch for her. There was a black velvet skirt and a pair of black and red striped stockings, along with a lacy bodice that looked to Brenda more like lingerie than something a woman would wear outside of her home.

She saw Simon sitting in front of his laptop at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette. "Good morning," she said, immediately feeling awkward for the erroneous statement. Simon smiled at her as she gathered up the clothing he'd set out for her and hurried back into the bathroom.

She felt terribly exposed as she emerged from the bathroom, although she was glad that Simon had found clothing that generally fit her. The stockings rode down uncomfortably in the crotch, but she supposed most stockings did that.

Simon was still in front of his laptop, and Brenda could hear the news anchor from where she stood. "Things are looking bleak for missing girl Grace Simmons. Detective Brenda Wild, who was heading the investigation, has gone missing herself. There is evidence that she was forcibly removed from her home." Brenda hurried to Simon's side in time to see her picture on the computer screen.

"This is bad," she said. It wasn't unexpected, however.

Simon turned and looked up at her. "Once you put some make-up on, you'll be unrecognizable to anyone who didn't know you well," he assured her.

"I guess I do look really different," she admitted. "But I'm sure they know you're one of the last people I spoke to. What if they come here?"

"If someone comes here, we'll sneak out the window."

Brenda nodded. "And you know that you don't have to let them in here if they don't have a warrant."

Simon shook his head. "Not everyone in the Denver Police Force shares your ideals and ethics."

She sighed. "I know. Do you want a turn in the shower?"

"Is there going to be any hot water tonight?"

Brenda's face fell. "Probably not."

Simon sighed, but smiled as he rose to his feet. "That's all right. I'll be back."

Brenda watched the news while she waited for Simon to emerge. She carefully applied her make-up during a report about the dimming of the bright neon-blue sign at the top of the Qwest building. Regardless of the fact that it was dimmer, it was still an eye-sore tainting Denver's skyline.

Simon came out of the bathroom fully dressed, with a few strands of his damp blond hair sticking to his forehead. "Do you feel thirsty at all?" he asked her.

Brenda shook her head. She did feel a little thirsty, but not enough to want to brave Liz's club, and she assumed the animals in the Denver Dumb Friends League would need a little more time to recover from her visit.

Simon studied her with a frown for a moment. "In that case, it would be a good idea for me to introduce you to the Prince."

"Will there be many other vampires where we're going?"

"There may be, but you will be safe there. We're going to Elysium, which is a meeting place where our kind need not fear violence. No one will harm you there."

Brenda did not feel satisfied with this. "But the man who . . . kidnapped me is a vampire. What if he's there?"

"He won't be able to do anything do you in Elysium."

"And even if he can't, or if he's not there, what if my going there allows him to find out I'm with you? He'll know where I am, and then you'll be in danger too."

Simon shook his head. "That is a possibility, but it's all the more reason to let the Prince know who you are. You need his recognition as a citizen, and then you will be under the protection of our laws."

Brenda sighed. She was still frightened but she saw that she had no choice. And she wondered, then, if perhaps this Prince could punish her attacker for his crimes. "Do vampires have any laws regarding the treatment of mortals?"

"Not many," Simon admitted. "The Prince doesn't particularly care as long as no one endangers the Masquerade."

"So, they can just do whatever they want to people?"

"Within the limits of the Masquerade, yes. He doesn't care. But not all of us see it that way."

"Thank you." So, there would be no justice for her, and none for Grace.

"Come on. We should go and get this over with."

"Okay. But do you have a jacket I can wear?"

Simon smiled. "I'll get you one."

-

The Denver Public Library was closed for the day, but a man at the door admitted Simon and Brenda when they approached.

Simon led her into the elevator, where he pressed 4 – 2 – 1 – 4 in quick succession. The elevator doors slid shut, and the car traveled downward.

Brenda followed Simon out of the elevator when they reached what she presumed to be the basement. The room was dominated by a large table, and three people were seated at it in conversation.

One was a fairly unremarkable dark-haired woman. But Brenda was immediately repulsed by the monstrous sight of the two men also sitting there. One had a grotesquely oversized and misshapen head, while the other had no lips. Naked muscle came around his teeth as he spoke.

All three turned their heads to look at Brenda.

Something within Brenda woke as these predators turned their attention onto her. A primal sense of terror took hold of her, so intense that she was unaware of her own screams as she turned and fled the nightmare she faced. Once met with the unyielding elevator wall she pounded her fists against it in impotent desperation.

Eventually, she became aware that she was inside the elevator with the doors closed. They hadn't come after her.

Simon materialized out of thin air next to her.

"I'm sorry." She wasn't sure what exactly had come over her.

"I know you're frightened," he told her. "But I've told you, no one will harm you here. You are safe her. No one will hurt you." He reached out and lifted her chin so that she met his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Brenda nodded guiltily.

"Are you ready to go back in there?" he asked gently.

She nodded once more.

"Will it help you if you hold my hand?"

Brenda considered for a moment. It was something a child would do, she thought. But she supposed that she was a child, in a way, and she did think it would make her feel better. So again, she nodded.

Simon extended his hand and she took it.

He pressed the button to open the elevator doors, and one of the men, the one with the deformed head, was standing and waiting. The other two sat at the table, watching. Brenda felt the flutter of fear once again, but she resisted it this time, repeating to herself that Simon had promised her she would be okay.

"Simon," the stranger hissed in a way that made Brenda cringe. There was obvious animosity in his voice. "You did not have my permission to Embrace a Childe."

"The circumstances were dire," Simon began.

"I do not care," he said, stepping closer. "You will serve me now until I feel you've paid for your transgression. You will come and report here each night for your duties."

Brenda's heart sank. Simon was going to have to serve this Prince indefinitely?

"Your first task is to bring find Morgan and send her here to see me."

"But she won't--" Simon began, and then immediately faltered.

The Prince took another step closer, and Brenda felt suddenly filled with revulsion, exactly like what she'd felt in the presence of her captor down in the sewers. She bit back a whimper as she clutched more tightly at Simon's hand.

"All right," Simon said quickly.

"Go. Don't come back without her."

Brenda went with Simon eagerly back into the elevator, and was flooded with relief as the doors began to slide shut, but felt as though she might jump out of her skin as a hand caught the door at the last moment, pushing the door back open.

The woman stepped inside, eyeing Brenda curiously. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Brenda."

"You don't have to talk to her," Simon said coldly.

For a moment, Brenda wasn't sure if Simon was speaking to her or to the other woman.

The woman ignored Simon and smiled at Brenda. "If you ever need to talk, you can come to me," she said. "I can teach you more than he can, more than he'll be willing to teach you."

"The things she would teach you are worthless," Simon retorted.

The woman continued to ignore Simon. "Here, this is my card," she said, reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a business card, handing it to Brenda.

Brenda looked at the card. It only had the woman's first name on it, which was Bethany, and the words Lancea Sanctum. There was a cross beneath it all. She nodded and slipped the card into her pocket. She was not interested in being recruited by some born again Christian. Apparently they existed even among vampires.

"Give me a call," she said as they reached the top floor and stepped out of the elevator.

Simon glared at her murderously as she walked away. "You might as well throw away her card," he said.

Brenda shrugged. "It's all right. I've never been very religious."

"That's because you've probably only been exposed to people like her."

Brenda shrugged again. Simon was some sort of Pagan, she'd figured. He patronized a metaphysical shop and knew a lot about the occult. She wasn't certain about that either, but she supposed she'd seen more merit in it over the past few days than she had in Christianity throughout her life. "The Prince was familiar," she told Simon in a shaky voice once they were outside.

Simon glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"You felt it too," she said. "I know you did . . . it's the same thing I experienced when I was held prisoner."

"Oh. That," he said grimly. "I'm afraid that all Nosferatu, the Prince's clan, have that ability, to inspire fear in those around them."

"But it could have been him," she said quietly.

"The Prince is capable of doing something like that," Simon told her, "But I wouldn't put it past either of the Nosferatu you met tonight."

Brenda nodded. "Are there a lot of Nosferatu here?" What she really wanted to know was whether she'd faced her rapist that night without even being able to recognize him.

"It's hard to say. I will say this. If it is a known Nosferatu, it only leaves those two as options."


	8. High Priestess

"So, who is this Morgan we're supposed to find? Do you know where she is?" Brenda asked Simon, allowing herself to finally let go of his hand as they began walking across the parking lot.

"She's my High Priestess," he told her.

Brenda nodded vaguely.

"I am a part of a Covenant called the Circle of the Crone."

Brenda nodded again, vaguely recalling the crone as one of the aspects of the triple goddess in her old studies of mythology.

"The Crone is the aspect of the goddess that vampires embody."

"Is Sanji also part of the Circle of the Crone?"

"No. He is part of the Ordo Dracul. Members of that covenant believe they were founded by Dracula," he said with a smirk.

Brenda raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't have suspected that of Sanji."

"I don't think he really buys into that part. The Ordo Dracul is about the self, and its members strive to rise above their vampiric nature. Simon is more spiritual than most of them, though, more like the Circle in some ways."

Brenda wished she could take notes on what Simon was telling her.

"We need to go to Morgan's Druid grove."

"I've never been to a Druid Grove before," she said thoughtfully. "But I've met a few Druids."

Simon raised his eyebrows. "You have?"

Brenda shrugged. "Neodruids would probably be a more accurate term actually. Not real ones."

Before Simon could respond, Simon was shoved forward from behind by a large bearded man. Brenda sensed the predator's taint in him and fought to silence her instinct to run.

"So, Simon, is this your new girlfriend?" he asked in a loud, harassing tone.

Brenda leaned down, offering Simon her hand. He waved her away and began to get up again, only to be shoved to the ground once more.

"Leave him alone!" Brenda shouted angrily.

"Aw, and your girlfriend has to protect you, too?" he asked, grinning and turning his attention toward Brenda.

Simon rose stiffly to his feet.

"What's your name?" the large man asked, interposing himself between Brenda and Simon.

"Detective Brenda Wild," she snapped, not sure it was the wisest move, but this Neanderthal was making her angry.

"Oh, a detective," he said mockingly, raising his bushy eyebrows. "And what's a cute little thing like you doing with this wimp? It's a good thing I'm here to show you what a _real_ man is like." He reached out and grabbed her wrist, hard.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, trying unsuccessfully to pull free.

The huge man began to walk away, dragging her along with him. His strength was inhuman.

Brenda dragged her heels and struggled in vain, imagining a fate similar to what she'd just experienced days earlier. Simon, her Sire, wasn't he supposed to protect her? Perhaps he was. He was reaching into his jacket for what Brenda suspected to be a gun. She hoped his aim was good.

The approaching flashing lights prevented Brenda from learning the answer. Her attacker let go of her and took off running, while Simon came to stand at her side. The police car came to a stop in front of her.

"Are you all right, miss?" A man asked, leaning out his window. Brenda didn't recognize him, to her relief.

"I am now," she told him, hoping he hadn't studied her picture too carefully.

"All right," he said, eyeing her. "You should be careful. It's dangerous at night in this part of the neighborhood. Try to get somewhere a little more well lit."

"We will," she promised.

"You look familiar," he said. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so." She resisted the urge to avert her face. It would only make her look suspicious.

"What's your name?"

Brenda's mind went blank. She should have planned for something like this. Even her first name alone was dangerous, because it might be all that he needed to connect her to her identity. All she had to do was make up a name, and she had no idea what to say.

"It's Opal," Simon said.

The officer nodded. "Well, the two of you make sure you get someplace safer."

Brenda waved as he drove away. "Opal?"

"It's my Sire's name."

Brenda walked with Simon in silence to his car. It was likely the first name to pop into his head. But she didn't want to be Opal. She didn't want to wear Opal's clothes. If she couldn't be Brenda anymore, she would forge her own new identity, not borrow someone else's.

She buckled herself into the passenger seat of Simon's car as he climbed in next to her and started the engine.

"That was the Hound," Simon told her. "He works for the Prince, as an enforcer of sorts, but really, he's just a bully."

She nodded. It seemed to her that everything associated with this Prince was corrupt.

She missed her cell phone. But even if she'd still had it, she couldn't answer it anymore. Had anyone been leaving her messages? No one but her knew the code, so she doubted anyone else had retrieved them. What if there was some information in there waiting for her?

"Can I use your phone?" she asked Simon as he began pulling out of his parking space. "I want to see if I had any messages before anyone realized I was missing."

Simon nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his phone. "I left you one."

She took the phone from him and dialed into her voicemail. The first message was indeed from Simon, requesting that she call him as soon as possible. She considered deleting it, but what if someone had found a way into her messages? She needed to let them draw the conclusion that she'd been murdered. If they noticed changes in her messages, it would look suspicious.

She pressed the pound key in order to skip to the next message. "Brenda, it's Dad. I really enjoyed having lunch with you yesterday. You left something over here at my house." There was a long pause. "Well, I'll tell you when you call me back," he said with a laugh. "I love you."

That was her last message.

"I'll never get to find out what I left at my dad's," she complained.

Simon glanced at her, and then quickly turned his attention back to the road. "You can't remember?"

She'd had too many other things on her mind. "No. It's weird that he wouldn't mention what it was."

"Maybe because it was something embarrassing?"

"That sounds most likely, but I just can't imagine what it would be."

"Did you leave your purse? I don't remember you carrying one with you before."

"Possibly." Brenda couldn't remember either, and it was possible that she'd forgotten it while worrying over her case notes. Her diaphragm was in there. Well, she assumed her father hadn't been deluding himself that she was still a virgin at twenty-nine. What would be much more embarrassing was when he went to clean out her apartment and found the vibrator along with the nearly full, expired box of condoms she kept in her dresser, a testament to how rarely she had company at night.

-

Some distance north of Fort Collins, Simon got off of I-25 and onto a windy dirt road that traveled in a vaguely western direction, and they were soon winding through the Rocky Mountains. The dirt road soon became overgrown, and they came to a stop in a dark, heavily wooded area.

"You should wait here," Simon told her. "Morgan doesn't permit anyone to step into the grove who hasn't been formally inducted into the Circle."

Brenda nodded, glancing back behind them. No approaching lights, no sound of an engine. Would someone have followed them?

"I'll leave you the keys and my phone," he said, picking up on her unease.

"Thank you." Brenda wasn't sure who she would call if there was a problem, since Simon was the only person who'd be close enough.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Simon unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out, closing the car door behind him.

Brenda immediately locked the doors and slid over to the driver's side. She turned the key just enough that the car had electricity, without restarting the engine, and then adjusted the radio's volume as low as it could get while still allowing her to hear it. With her newly heightened senses, this was quite low. She sank down against the seat low enough that no one would see her through the windows and tried to relax her nerves.

After just under an hour, a bloody face appeared outside the window, and Brenda sat up with a gasp. The woman outside the car indeed had blood smeared on her face in glyph-like patterns Brenda couldn't recognize. Her hair was a bright shade of red that could only be achieved through dye.

Brenda spotted Simon approaching behind her, so she reached over and unlocked the doors, then slid over to the passenger seat.

Morgan climbed into the back seat while Simon got into the front and started the car up. Introductions hardly seemed necessary. Brenda already knew who Morgan was, and Simon had no doubt told his High Priestess about his Childe.

"I don't like this, Simon. It's an obvious trap," Morgan said as Simon began turning the car around.

"There isn't any way around it. If you don't show up, he'll have me killed."

Brenda shuddered, imagining how lost she might be if Simon was taken away from her. And what would the Prince do with her? Would he kill her too? Would he keep her for himself? She felt nauseous at the thought.

"I know," Morgan said, scowling. "But he knows I am safe in my grove. He's making you bring me to him so he can kill me."

Brenda glanced back at Morgan worriedly. She didn't like the notion of endangering her, but she saw no way around it. She was at least pleased to meet an enemy of the Prince.

Morgan's brown eyes met Brenda's, and they seemed to sparkle with mischief as a smirk played at her lips. "I'll have to put a curse on him one of these days. If you ever happen to find access to his hair or his blood, do let me know."

"Morgan!" Simon snapped. "You're going to scare her off."

"I don't think so," Morgan said, eyeing Brenda.

"I may know where to get those things," Brenda said slowly. But she couldn't be sure they were his. Even if they weren't, she wouldn't pass up an opportunity to curse the bastard who'd raped her. "Do you need to know who you're cursing, in order for it to work?"

"I'm afraid so, child."

Brenda nodded, disappointed.

"It's good that I'm coming back with you, I think," said Morgan. "Simon has been lax in your training."

"I don't want to overwhelm her," Simon protested.

"I was only embraced yesterday," Brenda said, feeling obligated to defend Simon. He'd been nothing but supportive of her needs. "There hasn't been time." Besides, she'd never been interested in religion before, although something about the feminine energy of the goddess had an allure she wouldn't normally have expected.

"The training is meant to begin before your embrace," Morgan said sternly.

"It wasn't something that was exactly planned," Brenda said, glancing at Simon, wondering if he was planning to bring her into the Circle of the Crone. She wasn't certain he was, since she'd been embraced out of compassion, rather than any sort of potential to learn the ways of the goddess.

"I know. He told me. There is a lot of catching up for you to do," Morgan said, lifting a finger to her lips and slicing into it with her fangs. "But I believe you will learn quickly. May the goddess watch over you and guide you."

Brenda held still while Morgan touched her bloody finger to her forehead, anointing her with her strange blessing, feeling oddly pleased with the woman's approval.


	9. The Call of the Crone

Brenda watched carefully for the Hound as she, Simon and Morgan walked back into the Denver Public Library that served as the city's Elysium. She dreaded returning there. One of those Nosferatu was likely the one who'd raped her. But she didn't want to wait for Simon and Morgan alone.

She resisted the urge to ask Simon to hold her hand again. She didn't feel right about it in front of Morgan. As they rode the elevator down she steeled herself for the sight of those two hideous faces.

When they stepped into the room where the two Nosferatu waited, Brenda stood back, behind Simon.

"What is it you want from me?" Morgan asked in an exasperated tone.

The Prince came to stand over the High Priestess, exuding a palpable menace. "Where is my _Childe_?" he snarled at her.

Brenda looked at him in surprise. There was another Nosferatu?

"And why would I know where your Childe is?" Morgan asked, a smirk forming on her blood-red lips.

"Where is he!"

Brenda flinched as he raised his voice.

"Is it my concern if you let the fool wander into places he has no right to trespass into?"

"It is your concern if you are responsible for his disappearance," he hissed, looming over her.

"I'm responsible for no such thing. His fate is his own doing. It is his own foolhardiness that is to blame, I'm sure," Morgan said gleefully. "If he trespassed in places he had no right to be and the goddess saw fit to end his time on this earth—"

The prince raised his arm and slapped Morgan across the face with such force that she was knocked back against the elevators.

Brenda gasped and froze up.

Simon reached out to help Morgan to her feet, but she waved him away, licking at the blood on her upper lip. "I curse you," she spat. "You will never have another Childe. And the goddess will see an end to your reign."

Brenda took an involuntary step back from the Prince's glower.

"You are now banished from my city. If you are seen anywhere in Denver after tonight you will be destroyed. Now get out of my sight."

All three hurried into the elevator without argument.

As they made their way to Simon's car, Brenda was having difficulty deciding how she felt about what had just transpired. She had almost felt sorry for the Prince's loss of his child, but for the fact that the mere thought of him made her skin crawl. And then there was the way he'd struck Morgan. Of course, she'd been taunting him about that loss, which she did appear to be responsible for. As they reached the car, Brenda arrived at the conclusion that an enemy of the Prince was a friend of hers.

"I'll need to stay at your apartment for a little while," Morgan said as she climbed into the back seat.

"What?" Simon snapped, clearly irritated.

"It is the will of the goddess."

"No, Morgan," Simon said, turning the ignition. "It's _your_ will."

Brenda felt she was sitting in the middle of a long-running conflict.

"As the High Priestess, I speak for the goddess. My will is her will," Morgan retorted without hesitation.

"Didn't you hear what he said?"

"I don't care what he said. I am not frightened of him. Besides, your Childe needs me," she added, dragging Brenda into the argument with triumph in her voice. "You've been negligent in her teachings."

"Well, maybe it should be up to her, then, since she's staying in my apartment and there really isn't a lot of room. Brenda?"

Brenda looked back at Morgan, and then over to Simon. It was obvious that Simon didn't want Morgan to stay with them, but Brenda couldn't believe he'd just dropped the argument onto her. She considered for a moment. On one hand, she found herself interested in what Morgan might have to teach her about the goddess. The more feminine energy had the promise of comfort for her. On the other hand, having Morgan in Simon's apartment put Simon and herself in more danger. Brenda was afraid. "I don't think I have the right to make that decision," she said apologetically, hoping Morgan wasn't offended.

"You see, Simon? She's right. Your Childe knows it isn't her place to stand in the way of the goddess's will." Morgan was clearly a woman accustomed to getting her way.

Simon sighed. "All right."

-

"Well, I'll have to bunk with you," Morgan told Brenda after they'd returned to Simon's apartment.

Brenda had expected that would be the case, since it was fairly obvious that Morgan wasn't Simon's lover.

Once Simon had shut himself into his room, Morgan stripped out of her clothes and began pulling out the bed.

Brenda hadn't slept next to a female since she'd been a kid. She'd never slept next to a naked woman. She undressed quickly, keeping her back turned to Morgan, and hurriedly wrapped Simon's robe around herself.

"Your body is a gift from the goddess. You should not be ashamed of it." Morgan's criticism somehow managed to be gentle in tone.

Brenda decided to just be as honest as she could. She wanted a woman to confide in. "My body's been through a lot of abuse. I'm not ashamed of it, but I feel the need to protect it."

"Were you raped?" Morgan asked softly, all trace of her characteristic arrogance gone.

"Yes." Brenda clasped her hands together in front of herself and turned to face Morgan, to look into the woman's hazel eyes. "A few days before I was embraced. I never saw his face, but he left me to die afterward, and Simon found me. We think it must have been one of the Nosferatu."

"That doesn't leave many options, does it," Morgan said sourly. "And any one of them is capable of such an act. I think I see now why I needed to be here. Would you like me to do a ritual of healing for you?"

"Could you?" If it would help her stop feeling afraid, Brenda would be relieved.

"I will need you to take off your robe in order to do this."

Brenda nodded. "I understand." She could set her modesty aside for the purpose of healing. She felt fairly safe with Morgan. She untied the robe and slid it off of herself, laying it neatly over a pile of Simon's books.

"Go on and lie down on the bed."

Brenda did as she was told.

Morgan began rummaging through Simon's things, lighting candles and some incense. "I want you to tell me if you begin to feel violated at any point during the ritual. It isn't meant to be invasive, but this will not work if you feel violated."

"All right." Brenda felt nervous as Morgan came to stand over her, but she remained calm, reminding herself that she was safe there. She didn't expect this ritual to heal her over night, but if it was a step in the healing process, she welcomed it.

Morgan raised a finger to her mouth and inserted it between her lips. When she drew it away, a glistening bead of blood stood on the tip. She brought it down to Brenda's body and began to draw. She uttered soft prayers to the goddess, beseeching her to comfort her new daughter.

Brenda felt strangely comforted as Morgan said her prayers and drew glyphs on Brenda's skin with her cold vampiric blood. Brenda wasn't used to being taken care of. It felt like she was being mothered and she hadn't realized how much she'd needed it. As Morgan invoked the goddess, Brenda felt an inexplicable longing. Perhaps Simon had been right. Religion had never appealed to her because she'd only known Christianity, a highly patriarchal religion that had little respect for women. The goddess called to her like a neglected but dear friend.

"It's finished," Morgan told her, stepping back.

"That's it?"

"That was it."

Brenda's body was covered in bloody glyphs. "That wasn't so bad. May I put the robe back on?"

Morgan smiled indulgingly. "Of course, child."

Brenda got up and got back into the robe, regretting only a little that it was going to be stained with blood. She and Morgan both crawled beneath the covers of the bed. "Now you see why I was asking if you could put a curse on someone without knowing who they are."

Morgan nodded. "I'm sorry. But you do have the potential to become quite powerful with the goddess's help. You will get to have your vengeance."

"It isn't vengeance I want," Brenda argued. "The one who did this needs to be stopped, yes, so that no one else has to suffer at his hands."

"There are many reasons for vengeance. There is no shame in admitting it is precisely that."

Brenda could feel the overwhelming drowsiness taking hold of her as the sun must have been making its appearance over the horizon. Sleep claimed her as she admitted to herself that vengeance wasn't entirely unappealing.


	10. Beginning Again

Brenda found that she was again the first to wake from slumber the following evening. Her skin felt stiff and sticky where the bloody glyphs had dried on. Her first instinct was to go and shower right away, but she wasn't sure if that would interfere with the ritual Morgan had done.

Morgan was completely still and silent. Without the rise and fall of breathing, she looked like a corpse. Brenda supposed she must look the same way now when she slept.

Brenda slid out of the bed as carefully as she could, but her concern over disturbing Morgan was unfounded. She tightened the robe around herself and went to sit at the tiny kitchen table in front of Simon's laptop. After a few minutes of fiddling, she got it to show her the news channel.

It wasn't long before she saw her picture alongside Grace Simmons'. There still had not been any luck in finding either of them, and both were presumed dead.

Could Grace still be alive? After all that had happened, Brenda hadn't asked Simon about the details of the ritual he'd suspected the kidnapper meant to perform. If Grace was still alive, Brenda couldn't just do nothing. She had to find her. She had to stop him.

She glanced up as Simon emerged from his room. Morgan continued to sleep undisturbed.

"I thought you'd be in the shower by now," Simon told her.

"I thought I'd let you go first this time, since I've been using up all the hot water. And I wasn't sure if it was okay to wash off these glyphs."

Simon smirked. "Yeah. It's okay. It's advisable, actually."

"Oh good."

"Do you wanna go now?"

"You go 'head. It's okay."

Simon turned and took a step toward the bathroom.

"Does that ritual require him to kill her?"

Simon glanced back at Brenda. "Yes." It hadn't taken him any time at all to adjust to the change in subject from the trivial to the dire.

"So it's too late, then," she whispered, allowing her shoulders to slump. For an instant, she'd allowed her heart to be filled with hopes of a heroic rescue. Saving the little girl would not only be for her own sake, but also for Brenda's. It would mean something good had come out of her suffering and her lost life.

"Not necessarily. The ritual takes several days to perform, and he would need to keep her alive until the end." Simon grimaced. "The ritual requires that he remove the victim's face and wear it as a mask. He would have to spend some time having her skin stretched out."

"I have to help her." If Grace was still alive, she would already have suffered unimaginably. Would it even be possible for a little girl to recover from this sort of trauma? Brenda realized she'd been the lucky one. She'd only been subjected to his cruelty for a matter of hours. This madman had to be stopped, even if he turned out to be the Prince. "I can't let this go."

"I know," Simon told her with a resigned nod before turning and heading into the bathroom.

It was time for someone to stop this Prince. Brenda was certain Morgan would agree. If she ever woke up.

Simon's shower only lasted a few minutes, and as he emerged, Morgan was finally sitting up. She rose from the bed, stretching her arms and arching her bare back as if she was completely unaware of her own nudity. Her actions truly weren't those of a seductress, but simply of someone who had no sense of modesty.

Simon himself hardly seemed to notice. Brenda supposed Morgan probably did that sort of thing a lot.

"So, Brenda, do you want to go to Elysium with Simon tonight, or do you want to stay with me?" Morgan asked with a grin.

Simon gave Morgan an irritated glare.

"I really don't want to go back to Elysium, but I also don't want Simon to have to go in there alone." She didn't want to go near any of the Nosferatu, not again. "I also need to get back to trying to find a missing child." Brenda wondered if Morgan would be interested in helping her do that.

"You don't have to go there," Morgan said to Brenda in a smug tone. "And Simon doesn't have to go alone."

"But you can't go with him! They'll kill you!"

Morgan laughed. "My body won't be going. I'll leave that right here and follow Simon."

"Oh."

"We'll be all right," Simon promised. "Why don't you go ahead and get ready for what you need to do? You can use my car. Do you have any ideas where to start?"

"Not many. I'll ask Sanji if he can take me back to the place you two found me. I don't suppose you know a way I can get a gun when I have no money or identification?"

"Liz has a contact. You should go and talk to her first. And contact me if you're planning to do anything that might be dangerous."

"I will."

"I'm sure she can get you one. She won't fuck you for it, either."

Brenda smiled. "That's good to know."

"I meant figuratively…" Simon said, looking embarrassed.

"I know what you meant."

-

After Brenda had finished her shower, she'd come out of the bathroom to find the apartment quiet. Morgan's body sat motionless, naked and staring.

Trying not to feel too disconcerted, Brenda went to the couch, where Simon or Morgan had made up the bed. Simon had left some clothes there for Brenda, with his car keys sitting on top of them. This time she found herself with a long velvet skirt, a shirt made of shimmering, metallic purple fishnet, and a bodice to go with it. The fishnet shirt turned out to be every bit as uncomfortable as she'd suspected it would.

After applying her make-up she headed out the door and drove Simon's car the six blocks to Liz's club. It was still fairly early for the type of customers Liz catered to, so there weren't yet many people around. Liz was nowhere Brenda could see, but she spotted the familiar face of the man she'd fed from two days earlier.

He was talking to a slender brunette who didn't look quite old enough to be in a place like this, but she appeared mortal to Brenda. He glanced up at her as she approached and gave her a nod. "You lookin' fer Liz?" he asked.

"Yeah. Is she around?"

"Yeah. I'll go get 'er. Becky here'll keep you company."

As he began heading out a door on the other side of the room, Becky turned to Brenda and extended a hand. "We'll you already have my name . . ." Her fingers were utterly limp and cold in Brenda's grasp.

"I'm Brenda."

"So, are you part of the Black Sheep Club?"

Was that code for vampire? "I'm not sure. What's that?"

Becky shook her head, her thin lips curving into a smirk. "If you don't know what it is, you're not part of it," she said somewhat smugly. "Don't worry about it."

Brenda wasn't certain of that. There was still so much she didn't know.

Liz emerged from the same door the man had disappeared through. "You're here on your own? Do you want to come into the back room to talk?"

"Yes, please."

Liz led the way, closing the door behind them. "Where's Simon?"

"Elysium."

Liz grimaced and nodded. "How are you adjusting?"

"All right, considering I no longer have access to anything I used to own. Even my clothes are borrowed." She particularly missed underwear. "Simon said that you might be able to get me a gun. I obviously don't have access to any of my money, but if there's any sort of service I could do to make up for it, I'd be grateful."

Liz nodded. "It's actually a friend of mine who supplies the weapons. I'm pretty sure he'd be willing to help you out. I'll give him a call. If you come back here . . . say . . . after eleven, that should be enough time."

"Thanks. I'll do that."

"Before you go, there's one more thing. I hope this doesn't sound mean . . ." Liz paused as if carefully choosing her words.

Brenda braced herself, wondering what horrific faux pas she must have already committed.

"You're welcome to feed here as much as you like. But early in the evening when there aren't many customers, you need to be careful. Most of the people here at those times would be my herd. That's people who willingly allow me to feed from them on a regular basis. You can recognize them by these pendants I give them." Liz reached into her pocket and withdrew a small charm that looked like a little black rain cloud with a pair of red eyes.

The Black Sheep Club. Now it made sense. "I'll be careful," Brenda promised. She didn't want to step on Liz's toes.

Liz smiled. "Thank you. Now, I'm going to go and give my friend a call. I'll see you later tonight."


	11. The Weapons Dealer

Brenda's next stop was Sanji's shop. The place was empty when she arrived, other than Sasha behind the counter. The girl looked up just before Brenda stepped through the front door.

"Sanji told me you were one of us now," Sasha said, stepping around the counter to look Brenda over. "Now I can see it myself." She grinned. "And this means I'm not the youngest one in the city anymore! Now someone else has to be on the bottom!"

"Congratulations," Brenda said uncertainly.

"I'm just teasing. I'm just glad there's finally someone a little closer to my age."

Brenda smiled. "Sanji is your Sire?"

"Yup. And my teacher. My mentor. Are you here to see him?"

"Yeah."

"He's in the back. You can go on. I have to watch the front."

Brenda nodded and went into the back to find Sanji seated cross-legged on his mat. He looked up at her as she walked in. "Hi," she said, feeling much more uncertain than she ever remembered feeling before her . . . her death. "I was hoping you would be able to help me."

Sanji smiled as he rose gracefully to his feet. "What is it you need?"

"I still might have a chance to save the little girl. But without access to my old resources from my old job, I don't have any ideas where to look for clues, other than the place where you and Simon found me. Do you remember how to get there?" she asked.

His smile faded, and his eyes turned downward, away from her own. "I do not believe this would be a wise act."

"But I don't know what else to do." If he had another idea, she would be grateful for it.

"Perhaps it would be best to do a reading, to learn if this would be a good course of action," he said.

Brenda nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

Brenda left the shop uncertain what she should do next. Sanji's reading predicted danger and disappointment, and possibly much worse if she returned to the place where she'd been raped. He would not bring her there. He'd done another reading to seek answers for what she ought to do, and his cards indicated that fear was holding her back, but that she was being drawn toward spirituality. The cards indicated that the answers would come to her through that.

He'd been quite pleased with the results of the reading. "I have not met a person so ready to turn to spirituality since I chose to Embrace Sasha," he'd said. And then he'd offered to take her on as his student, but warned her that he would not be easy on her. But through him, he promised she could learn to be more than a walking corpse.

She felt safe with Sanji, and she believed in his abilities and his wisdom. She was sure she could learn a great deal from him and possibly begin to feel fulfilled again. And yet . . . she would be turning her back on Simon. The Crone was a temptation as well, as was being Simon's student. And Morgan's.

She didn't know what she wanted. She felt as though whatever way she chose, although she would gain something great, she would also be sacrificing something great. And no matter what she chose, someone would be let down.

She hoped whatever she chose, somehow the way to save Grace became instantly apparent. She had to trust Sanji's reading. He'd found _her_, after all.

Brenda knew she was early when she returned to Liz's club, Heart's Desire, but she had nothing else to do. The place was fairly crowded by then, but after some searching, Brenda was fairly certain that Liz was nowhere to be found. She eventually found herself a place to sit down and wait, hoping that the men there wouldn't take her solitude as an invitation.

After a few minutes, a familiar sounding song came on. It sounded a lot like _Personal Jesus_, but she was fairly certain the vocalist in this case was Marilyn Manson. She was shaking her head in disbelief when the thing she'd been dreading happened. A man sat down across from her with a look of utter confidence on his devastatingly handsome face.

She stiffened defensively as she eyed her uninvited companion. Slender but not scrawny, a tight black t-shirt that just accentuated his wiry masculinity. His hair was dark brown and just slightly on the longish side. He wore a small, silver hoop earring in his left ear and had just a touch of five o' clock shadow on his cheekbones. His blue eyes were fixed on hers and he wore a self-assured smile. He seemed to ooze both sexuality and predator's taint.

He must have been the contact Liz had mentioned. But why had Liz left Brenda to face him alone?

"How are you doing? I'm Matt," he said in a deep, almost gravelly voice with an English accent.

"I'm waiting for someone," Brenda replied warily.

"Pretty sure that's me you're waitin' for."

"You're Liz's friend?" He looked like someone Brenda would expect to be a friend of Liz's. Brenda herself had never taken interest in the bad boy sort, having arrested dozens of men just like him. They were trouble. She preferred men more like Jesse or Tom. Or Simon.

"Yup."

"I'm Brenda."

He extended his hand, and Brenda gave him hers. The handshake was a firm one, not too tight like some men tended to do, but firm. "Liz tells me you're looking to make a purchase."

"I guess she didn't tell you everything," she said, frowning. Why had Liz led him to assume Brenda had the money to just buy a gun? "Not exactly," she said, feeling humiliated. "I was only recently Embraced, just a few days ago. I've lost everything I owned, and I don't have access to any of my money anymore. So I'm not able to offer you any payment. I'm sorry. I expected Liz to tell you that I was hoping I could perform some kind of service as payment."

"I see," Matt said thoughtfully. "I think I'd be willing to part with some of my merchandise in exchange for your friendship."

"Define friendship."

He smiled. "We talk to each other. You come visit me and we hang out once in a while."

"Oh." Brenda relaxed. She didn't think she was crazy to worry that friendship might have been a euphemism for sex, but now his intentions seemed rather innocent and quite generous. "As new as I am, I could afford a few more friends."

Matt nodded. "If it hasn't happened yet, a lot of people are gong to try to sell you on their Covenants."

"I've gotten a little of that already, but at the moment, I don't think I know what they all are."

"Well, most people are gonna try to recruit you, try to convince you that their Covenant is the best Covenant. You'll have trouble getting unbiased information from anybody. I have my own biases too. Since we're friends, I'll go ahead and tell you what all of 'em are without telling you which one I'm in. Hopefully that'll help you eventually make a decision."

"Thanks."

"Let's see . . . there's the Ordo Dracul. If you ignore the face that they're supposedly founded by Dracula, they have some interesting ideas and abilities. They specialize in overcoming the Curse of our nature. And it _is_ a Curse, make no mistake."

Brenda nodded. This was what Sanji could teach her. "I've heard about them a little."

"Then there's Lancea Sanctum. They're a Christian group; they name themselves after the Lance of Longinus. On the other extreme you have the Circle of the Crone. Pagans, goddess worshippers. All three of these groups have their own style of ritualistic magic. They're all capable of achieving a lot of power. And then you have the Invictus. They'll protect you and give you a safe place to be where you could eventually amass power, among them and over mortal society. But you'll have years of being under the older ones' boot heels in the meantime. Finally, you have the Carthian Movement. We're all about equality—" Matt halted in his speech, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. "Oops. I didn't mean to do that."

Brenda couldn't help but smile.

"Well, I guess my secret's out. Anyway, we Carthians are all about personal freedom, democracy, everyone having an equal voice. The Invictus like to have their hierarchy based on age, and we don't think that age should get you any special privileges. We're more democratic."

"Makes sense," Brenda said. It seemed the Carthian movement and the Invictus were polar opposites. "I don't really see myself joining up with the Invictus."

"That's a relief," he said, grinning.

"And I never much bought into Christianity, although someone named Bethany gave me her card."

"Bethany? She's a hypocrite," he said dismissively.

"I wasn't real impressed. My Sire doesn't like her either."

As she spoke, she saw Liz approach Matt from behind and then slide into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck possessively.

"I was hoping you'd come back upstairs with me," Liz said in a husky tone.

"Again? I was just up there."

"I wasn't finished." Liz stroked his dark hair.

"Well, right now I'm in the middle of something," Matt said with a chuckle. "I'll come back and take care of you later."

Liz sighed and nodded, climbing off of his lap. "All right. Don't be too long," she said as she turned and walked away with a seductive sway to her hips.

"She's insatiable," Matt said in an affectionate tone.

Brenda smiled nervously. She was a bit surprised that Matt had just blown off a plea for sex from the most gorgeous woman she'd ever seen. Just so he could keep talking to her. He'd just endeared himself to her, and she hoped it wasn't terribly obvious.

"So where were we? Can I buy you a beer?"

Brenda eyed him confusedly for a moment. It hadn't even occurred to her to try to eat or drink anything. She'd lost all desire for it. "All right."

Matt rose from his seat and walked to the bar. He was there for a few minutes before returning with two bottles.

Brenda raised her eyebrows when Matt handed her a bottle. It was empty.

"We can pretend, Red," he said quietly, settling back into his seat. "So, tell me about yourself."

"All right. Up until a few days ago, I was a detective with the Denver Police Department. I dealt with missing persons. I was investigating a little girl, Grace Simmons." She paused. There was no reason to tell him anything _too_ personal about her. He surely didn't want to know. But she ought to let him know what potential enemies her friendship would earn him. "It's looking like she's been kidnapped by a Nosferatu."

"That doesn't leave many possibilities."

"No, it doesn't seem to. I must have gotten too close to whoever it was, because a few days ago, mean came to my apartment and beat me into unconsciousness and brought me to the kidnapper. It was too dark for me to see him, and he nearly killed me. I would've died if Simon hadn't come and taken pity on me."

Matt shook his head. "It was more than that. He wouldn't have Embraced you if he hadn't wanted to."

"I was dying. It was the only way to save me. It was an act of compassion."

"I won't deny that it was an act of compassion. This Simon is obviously an admirable guy to have done that for you, but he wouldn't have done it _just_ to keep you from dying. If that was all he wanted to accomplish, he could've kept you alive without Embracing you."

"He could've?"

Matt nodded. "If he'd just fed you some of his blood, you could've used that to heal your injuries just like you can now. You'd be what's called a Ghoul, and you'd have some of our abilities, and you could still go out in the sun. But your will would become completely enslaved. It's not something I'd condone doing."

Brenda stared at him. Simon didn't have to Embrace her. So he'd wanted to, for some reason. Had he seen some potential in her that she wasn't aware of? In that moment, her decision was made. She would join the Circle of the Crone. Simon would be her teacher.

"Has your Sire told you about the Vinculum?"

She shook her head.

"It's what happens when you drink another vampire's blood—"

"Oh, he told me a little about that. He said that drinking a vampire's blood gives the other vampire some power over you."

"That's partly true, to put it lightly. I'll go ahead and tell you. Three times. That's the magic number. Once you've tasted a vampire's blood on three separate nights, it's love. They become the center of your world and you'll be their willing slave."

"I'll keep that in mind. I wasn't planning on drinking anymore vampire blood. Simon warned me about getting addicted."

"Good. And by the way, do you know who all the Nosferatu are?"

"I know of three, but I don't know their names."

"There are just three, and they're all Invictus to the best of my knowledge. The Prince calls himself Rex. His Childe is called Nox, and his advisor goes by Axiom."

"Rex, Nox and Axiom," she repeated in order to commit the names to memory. They all sounded like assumed names. Rex was probably chosen by the Prince because it meant 'king.' Either Rex or Axiom had raped her, since Nox was dead. Rex or Axiom.

"Do you wanna come and look at the merchandise?"

Brenda nodded. "Good idea."

They both rose from their seats. "Do you have a preference?"

"I used to carry a .38."

"All right."

Brenda followed Matt outside to the small parking lot behind the club. He stopped at the trunk of a black Ferrari. He opened the trunk and reached beneath a cover, withdrawing a pistol and handing it to Brenda.

She slipped the gun into her jacket pocket, worrying over the fact that it seemed so obvious that she was hiding a gun. As she studied the pocket she'd put it in, willing it not to be seen, the gun vanished. Hoping she didn't look too startled, she reached into her pocket and caressed the cool metal. Simon could disappear completely, and she could make objects disappear. It was a start.

"Well, you've learned at least one power already," Matt said with a smile.

"That's convenient," she said, returning the smile shyly.

Matt nodded, closing his trunk.

"That's quite an arsenal."

"Yup. It makes me money, and also helps me get rides if the car ever breaks down."

Brenda frowned as she was forced to acknowledge the fact that she was talking to a criminal. She'd known it already, but he'd just driven the point home.

"It's a joke! Relax," he said with a gentle laugh and a smile that ought to make any normal woman swoon.

"I shouldn't keep you from Liz any longer."

He nodded. "Yeah, she's probably getting impatient. Well, give me a call some time," he said, reaching into his pocket and handing her a business card.

It was labeled 'Redmond Recording,' and had the name Matt Redmond beneath it with a phone number, website and email address. "I will," she told him, promising herself that she'd make sure it wasn't for another favor when she did.

"And feel free to drop by my studio if you ever decide to take up an interest in music.

She smirked. "Thanks. But that's not likely. I'm a detective, not a musician."

"Soon enough you're going to realize that you have enough time to do just about anything you want."

"You never can tell how much time you actually have."

"True," he admitted. "Well, I'd better go and service Liz," he said in a tone one might use when referring to a chore like washing dishes. "Seeya soon, Red."


	12. Surrender to Tutelage

Back in Simon's apartment, Brenda found Morgan up and about, still naked, rearranging Simon's books. Brenda suspected Simon was not going to be pleased. He struck her as one of those people who, like Brenda, liked everything to be just so. Morgan looked up as Brenda began to climb through the window. "Hello, dear."

"How did everything go at Elysium? Is Simon okay?"

"Simon will be fine. I, however, am now hunted. If you wouldn't mind driving me, I believe it's time for me to return home."

"Sure. It's probably safer for you that way. But I'm glad you were here last night."

Morgan smiled as she began putting on the discarded clothing she'd worn the night before. "I'm glad I was here for you."

"Maybe you were right. About it being the goddess's will."

"Of course I was. I'm ready," she said, slipping on a pair of sandals.

Brenda led the way out through the window and back toward her rental car. "Why are you hunted now? Did they find out you stayed here?"

"No," said Morgan, climbing into the passenger seat of the car and pulling the door closed. "He assumes I stayed here."

Brenda buckled her seatbelt, shaking her head in disbelief. "He can't punish you based on an assumption."

"But I _did_ stay here."

"So what? He can't prove that you did. It doesn't matter that he knows you stayed. He has to be able to prove it."

Morgan placed a hand on Brenda's knee, shaking her head. "You are not mortal anymore. It only works that way in the mortal world. Vampires have different rules, many of which are unjust. A Prince rules over a city because he is the strongest. He can do whatever he wishes."

Brenda sighed. So they had no choice but to live under the rule of a tyrant? What about the Carthian Movement, she wondered, thinking of Matt. Surely they would oppose such a system. But maybe they couldn't. Maybe Prince Rex was too powerful. But something had to be done. She had to find Grace Simmons. And she feared if something wasn't done, Simon would never be free.

"Did you kill the Prince's Childe?" Brenda asked.

Morgan straightened her shoulders. "As I said before, I am not responsible for his actions. Any repercussions resulting from his foolishness were brought on himself."

"I'm not asking because I want to know what you did. I just need to know if he's dead, so I can rule him out as the one who raped me," Brenda explained.

"Yes. He's dead," Morgan said quietly.

Brenda sighed. That left only two possibilities. She hoped.

"But he still may be the one who hurt you."

"_What?"_

"His death was very recent."

Brenda hadn't been thinking straight. Otherwise, that possibility would have occurred to her already. "He left me lying in there for days . . . I thought I'd been abandoned to die. But maybe he really didn't come back because he couldn't."

"It's a possibility. But don't assume that means it was him."

"No," Brenda agreed. "It will be much safer to assume that whoever did this is alive and aware of me."

"No matter who it was, any one of them is capable of it."

Brenda nodded.

"And no matter who it was, you're likely to make an enemy of the Prince."

"I know."

"You can let me out here."

Brenda brought the car to a stop in the same area where she'd waited for Morgan and Simon the night before. "Thank you, again, for being there last night. For helping me."

"Of course. Now, I do hope Simon gets to work on your training quickly, since he's been so lax."

"I'm sure he will." It seemed it would never occur to Morgan that Brenda might not want to join the Circle of the Crone. Was this a sign of her arrogance or her intuition, since she happened to be right?

Morgan paused after opening the car door. "There will come a time when your abilities surpass Simons and there will be nothing more he can teach you of our ways. When that time comes, you are welcome here with me."

"Thank you." If what Morgan said was true, it was undoubtedly a long way off.

Morgan leaned toward Brenda, and Brenda put out her arms, expecting a hug from the High Priestess. Instead, she found Morgan's cold, soft, strangely moist mouth against her own. The High Priestess pulled away and climbed out of the car before Brenda could react, a satisfied smirk on her blood-red lips.

Instinctively, Brenda brought her fingers to her lips, and then examined them in the starlight. They glistened with blood.

Brenda returned to the apartment to find Simon rearranging his books, swearing loudly as he did so. She made a mental note to herself to be very careful about moving any of his things. "Hi, Simon."

He looked up at her and smiled, despite his obvious agitation.

"I took Morgan home."

He nodded. "I'd hoped so. She is my High Priestess, and my friend, but . . ."

"I know. She's a little controlling."

"A _little_?"

Brenda shrugged, wanting to smile, but too many worries were eating at her. "How did things go for you?"

"My servitude will continue until I kill Morgan."

"He can't expect you to do that!"

"Of course he doesn't. He knows I'll do no such thing. He intends for me to serve him forever.

"I'm sorry." So, this was the price of Simon's compassion.

"I wouldn't change the choices I made," he assured her as he began shelving a stack of books, his back toward her.

Brenda remembered that he could have saved her life without Embracing her. She wondered what it was he'd seen in her to make him choose to grant her this. It seemed as though Morgan saw it too, whatever it was. "This is no way to live," she said.

"I know." He turned to look at her. "There are times when I hope someone else will rise up and usurp this Prince's position. But anyone with the power to do that will most likely be just as corrupt, and possibly even worse."

"How can you be sure?"

"Power corrupts. The more power you have, the more corrupt you tend to be. Even among mortals this is usually the case."

Brenda nodded. "Is there a reason we can't just leave?"

"We could do that," he said thoughtfully. "Anywhere but Las Vegas."

"I'm not all that interested in Las Vegas." That must be where Opal lived. "Just someplace where you aren't subjected to the Prince's every whim." _And where I might not have to face my rapist anymore._

Simon nodded. "It may be a good idea. It might be best if you scout ahead, and then call me to join you once you're settled. Travel isn't as easy for our kind as it is for mortals. Most airline flights are in daylight hours, and driving, one has to be careful to find a secure shelter before morning."

Brenda nodded. There was so much that she would have to adjust to.

"How did your night go? Were Liz and Sanji able to help you?"

"Yeah, sort of. Liz had her friend get me a gun, and Sanji . . . he wouldn't take me to the place where the two of you found me."

Simon sighed. "That isn't surprising."

"He did give me a reading. He said I'll find what I need by pursuing my spirituality. He thinks I seem very ready for that. And I admit I have been finding myself interested in that."

Simon studied her uncertainly. "Does this mean you've made a decision?"

Brenda nodded. "I want to learn more about the Crone. I feel drawn to her."

Simon smiled, stood up and closed the distance between them. "There's time to begin your lessons now, if you're willing. But first, welcome to my Circle." He extended his hands.

Brenda placed her hands within his own and gave herself over to his guidance.


	13. Out of Hiding

Simon spent the next couple of hours teaching Brenda about the nature of the Crone, as well as their vampiric nature. Vampires were strongly connected to the Crone, the darkest aspect of the triple goddess typically associated with death and the waning moon.

Brenda learned of the five clans, as well. Besides her own clan and the Nosferatu, there were the Ventrue, which Sanji and his student were a part of. Liz was a Daeva. That particular clan was known for both their beauty and their hedonism. The last clan he told her of was the Gangrel, known for being fairly nomadic and animalistic.

The Mekhet had one power, or Discipline as Simon called it, that was unique to those of their blood, called Auspex. Brenda had already instinctively come to rely on the most basic of its powers, the ability to heighten her own senses. She also learned that she could see auras. She was fascinated by the pale blue she discovered surrounding Simon. At her insistence, Simon had told her that her own aura was a pale shade of yellow. All vampires' auras were pale. It was a way of identifying them even if they lacked the taint of the predator, as Simon did. It would take Brenda some time to memorize the meanings behind all the colors and patterns.

Any Mekhet could become highly psychic over time, learning to glean information from objects by mere touch, to read minds and even travel outside their own bodies. Such abilities seemed a long way off to Brenda. Simon favored the power of Obfuscation more than Auspex.

Eventually, they were interrupted by the ringing of Simon's cell phone. He gave Brenda an apologetic smile before answering it. Brenda could hear a faint, feminine voice and resisted the urge to sharpen her senses to allow herself to hear what was being said. "Yes, she's here," he said to the woman on the phone. Simon slowly rose to his feet and walked to his computer. "Okay," he said, beginning to type. "Thank you." He set his phone down on the table next to him. "Liz said you will be interested in what's on the news right now."

Brenda got up and went to join her Sire.

On the screen was an area she recognized. It was a warehouse just near the train yard she'd come to when emerging from the steam tunnels. The place she'd believed the kidnapper must have emerged from after swiping Grace Simmons from Chuck E. Cheese. There were police everywhere.

"A major breakthrough in the case of the Mayor's missing daughter, Grace Simmons . . ." the reporter was saying as Brenda sucked in her breath, for a moment too filled with excitement to listen to what was being said. "We anticipate that within the hour the seven-year-old girl will be found . . ."

"We have to stop them," said Simon.

"What! Why!"

"That's the Prince's stronghold. He'll kill them."

"He can't possibly kill that many cops," she said, in a tone that pleaded more than it argued.

"He will."

"But the Masquerade."

"None of them will be left alive to endanger it."

"Then there's no hope for Grace? She'll never be rescued?"

"That suicide mission won't succeed. However, since we now know where she is, we can now act ourselves. But first we have to prevent the blood bath that's about to occur."

"You have influence among them. You will need to deter them."

"But I'm supposed to be dead."

He nodded. "I know. Sanji can help us with that. He can manipulate their memories so they won't remember ever having seen you. Would you like to call him?" Simon picked up his phone, pressed a few buttons and handed it to Brenda.

She took it from him and reluctantly pressed 'Send.' She knew what Sanji was going to think when he heard her voice, and she dreaded disappointing him.

"Seventh Dream Metaphysical Supplies," answered Sanji's accented voice after two rings.

"Sanji? It's Brenda."

"Brenda! It is good to hear from you. Does this mean you've made your decision?"

"I have, although I was actually calling because Simon and I need your help with something. I did decide that what I feel I need most right now is the Goddess. I decided to join the Circle of the Crone."

"I see. Well, I believe that your Sire will be a good teacher."

"I think so too," she said, looking into Simon's eyes.

"What is it you need my help with?"

"Police are preparing to raid the Prince's warehouse."

"I'll meet you there."

"Thanks." She handed the phone back to Simon after ending the call. He slipped it into his pocket. "Sanji had offered to take me on as his student after the last reading he gave me."

"That isn't surprising."

Brenda thought that if she'd still been mortal, she might have blushed.

Simon circled his car around until he spotted Sanji, and then pulled in next to him. Brenda stuck close to Simon's side as they emerged to meet their friend.

When they reached Sanji, he wrapped a dark velvet cloak around Brenda's shoulders. "Pull the hood over your head so you may only be recognized when you choose to be," he instructed.

Brenda silently obeyed.

"Now, who would have the authority to call this off?" Simon asked.

Brenda's eyes scanned the crowd, finally settling on a diminutive, middle-aged Hispanic woman. "Her," she said, pointing as discreetly as she could. "Lourdes Gonzales."

"Let's go and speak to her," Sanji said, placing a hand on Brenda's back.

"I'll wait here," said Simon.

Brenda kept her head low as she weaved her way through the reporters and police officers while Sanji shadowed her steps, just a few paces behind her. "Gonzales!" she called out when she reached her former boss.

The woman's head whipped around at the sound of Brenda's voice. Brenda pushed back her hood just a little to reveal her face. Gonzales's eyes widened.

Brenda had no idea what she was going to say, but there was no time to plan, so she just began talking. "You're compromising my investigation and endangering Miss Simmons." Brenda silently offered her first prayer to the goddess. This had to work.

"Brenda?" the woman whispered. "Everyone thought you were _dead_." Her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry about that," Brenda said, feeling an ache for the life that the Nosferatu had ripped away from her. "I needed to keep a low profile in order to have any chance of success with this case. You must be aware that I was attacked in my apartment. I just couldn't take any chances. I have everything under control, if you'll just trust me to handle it."

Lourdes nodded, looking as though she was still in shock. "All right. Yes, of course," she said, taking a long, deep breath. "I'm just so glad you're all right."

"I have to go now," Brenda said gently.

"You'll tell me everything after this?"

"Of course I will." Brenda turned away guiltily and nodded toward Sanji.

As Gonzales began giving new orders, Sanji waited a moment to tap the woman on the shoulder. Brenda couldn't hear what he said to Gonzales as she looked up into his eyes. Brenda was intent on removing herself from the crowd, to the safety of Simon's side. She mustn't let anyone else see her face.

"It looks like it worked," Simon observed when Brenda reached him. Some of the officers had already gotten into their cars and began driving off.

"But for how long?"

"We won't have enough time before dawn to go in tonight, but we should plan on it first thing tomorrow. That should be long enough, I hope."

Brenda nodded, a sick feeling of dread forming in her stomach. "What keeps them from this if Sanji made her forget me?"

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. "I told her she had an undercover agent working from the inside."

"Oh." Brenda wasn't sure why Sanji couldn't have done that without her help. But she supposed someone needed to at least show him who he had to speak to.

"I must return to my shop. Brenda, I am happy you have chosen a spiritual path. Although Simon will be your teacher, I hope you will continue to visit me and Sasha."

"I will," she promised.

Sanji smiled and got into his car.

"Do you need to feed?" asked Simon.

"No," Brenda replied reflexively. The thought of hunting in a crowded bar where people might put their hands on her far outweighed the nagging thirst she felt growing inside her.

Simon eyed her just long enough for her to feel certain he didn't believe her. "Well, I do need it. And this is a good time for finding homeless people sleeping on the sidewalks."

Brenda supposed she could handle taking a little blood from someone while they slept. "Maybe I could use a little bit."

Only a slight twitch of Simon's lip gave any indication that he'd already known she would change her mind after hearing his intentions.


	14. Preparation for Revolution

Brenda woke with a feeling of dread. Tonight was the night. They'd go to the warehouse and try to find Grace. They'd act blatantly against the Prince of Denver. She'd walk right into the lair of the one who'd raped her. She'd never known fear like this when she'd been alive.

By the time Brenda had showered Simon had come out and laid down some clothes. This time there was a pair of vinyl pants and a KMFDM t-shirt. She eyed them for a moment. She'd heard of KMFDM, she thought. Weren't they still around? If this had belonged to his Sire, she couldn't have been gone for more than a few years.

"I thought maybe pants would be more comfortable if we need to . . . move fast," Simon said from his seat in front of his lap top. "If they don't fit, let me know."

"Okay." Again she lamented her lack of panties, but there were so many bigger things to worry about. It was a small dignity he'd taken from her, compared to the rest. She waited as Simon departed into the bathroom, and then she dressed herself. The vinyl felt weird. She guessed the pants fit okay, but it just didn't feel like clothes.

Simon emerged from the bathroom a short while later, fully dressed, and damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead in a way that seemed somehow endearing. "We're going to have to feed again."

"But we just did that last night!" Brenda said in a voice that came out a bit more shrill than she'd intended.

"What we're going to be doing is dangerous, and if we're going to hope to survive, let alone succeed, we need to be fully fed."

She nodded, knowing he was right.

"I won't ask you do to anything you're not comfortable with yet," he told her. "But it's too early to prey upon homeless people in their sleep."

"I don't want to feed in the club. I just can't do it. I . . . I'll wait for you to do it. I have enough blood in me," she said, knowing she could certainly stand to drink a bit more.

"All right. You need it as much as I do. There is another option we can try. I sometimes, when there's no other choice, pretend to mug people." He looked away from her eyes as he said it, as if ashamed. "Those are really the only options we have with the time we have left. It's up to you."

Brenda cringed at the idea of mugging someone, but at the same time, she just couldn't handle the alternative. "All right. The mugging."

Simon nodded and went into his room. He emerged and offered Brenda a ski mask. "Were you able to get a gun?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let's go."

-

Denver was full of poorly lit alleys. Brenda waited just outside one of Simon's choosing, after he'd melted away into the darkness within. Her task was simple, in theory. She waited for someone who looked vulnerable.

It didn't take long. Two girls, perhaps a few years younger than Brenda climbed out of a car they'd parked a block or so down the street. They looked like they were on their way to a bar or a club, most likely. Parking in Denver was a bitch, which worked to a predator's advantage in this case.

Brenda watched as they drew close, laughing and gossiping, completely oblivious, until she stepped directly in front of them, aiming her gun at them. "Into the alley," she said, fearing that they would not obey.

Both women looked at her with wide eyes, and exchanged hesitant glances.

Brenda had expected this. She clicked the safety off on her gun. "Now."

The girls now jumped to obey, as she'd hoped. If they hadn't, Brenda hadn't been sure what she would do. Certainly not shoot them.

Simon stepped out of the darkness, silent and malevolent, seizing one of the girls roughly by the arm while pressing his gun into her back. "Onto the ground, both of you," he said in a voice that was uncharacteristically cruel.

Brenda heard one of the girls whimper, and didn't blame her. She had to remind herself that this was her Simon, the man who'd shown her kindness and taken her into his home after giving her eternal life. He emanated an aura of menace as he removed the purse from one of the girls' hands, and then lowered himself down, his lips closing over the pale flesh of her neck.

Brenda quickly followed his example, unable to bring herself to be nearly as rough as her Sire had been as she relieved the girl of her purse, and drove her teeth into her flesh. Something in her rejoiced as the hot blood came forth. She hated the act, and yet found herself relishing it all the same, savoring the exhilarating feeling that came with the drink.

After the initial rush of sensation passed, she forced herself to begin counting the seconds. _One, one thousand, two one thousand . . . _ She withdrew once she'd reached ten, running her tongue over the wound, savoring the last taste even as she grimaced at the taste of whatever perfume the girl had decided to marinate herself in. The girl trembled beneath Brenda, stifling a sob, and Brenda couldn't help but remember the revulsion she'd felt, bound and naked, her captor's tongue running across her skin. Sickened, she rose to her feet.

Simon still managed to keep a level head, rising more slowly, pressing his gun into the other girl's back. "Now, you're both going to begin slowly counting to ten. If either of you moves before the count of ten, I will shoot you," he said, pressing the gun harder into the girl's back before withdrawing it and stepping back.

Brenda went with him as he moved out of the alley, breaking into a run and vanishing from sight. Brenda tore the mask off of her head and began to run a short distance, but quickly slowed her pace to normal once she'd given herself a bit of distance. She didn't want to draw attention to herself.

"Here." Simon's voice came from behind her, and he held out his hand.

Brenda frowned for a moment, and then handed him the purse.

He rummaged through it for a moment, pulling out some cash, and then tossed it into a nearby trash can. He counted the money quickly, and then handed Brenda two twenties.

Brenda stared at the money guiltily. Now that it was over, she felt sickened by what they'd done. She didn't think she could bring herself to feed this way again, no matter how dire the need. She felt the need to make amends. Perhaps she'd donate the money to a battered women's shelter, she decided, slipping the money into a pocket. "I don't want to do this again."

Simon only nodded, as if that had been the answer he'd expected. Perhaps that had been his intention all along, to show her there were worse ways to feed than the one she was so fearful of. Perhaps that was why he'd allowed himself to seem so cruel.

Brenda didn't believe he would have been any more likely to truly harm those women than she'd been. But she wasn't the one who'd needed to believe it, and he'd done an excellent job of convincing their victims.

"Do you know anyone who can help us rescue the child?" Simon asked her.

"I hardly know anyone," Brenda pointed out. "I'm sure Morgan would, but she's too far away. Sanji?"

Simon shook his head. "Sanji might be willing, but he wouldn't be able to offer much. We'd only be putting him in danger."

"What about Liz?" As they walked, they'd nearly reached her club.

"No, Liz wouldn't risk herself. Not for me."

Brenda frowned. She'd thought Liz was Simon's friend.

"Is there anyone you've met?"

Brenda's hand slipped into her pocket. Aside from the gun was the card belonging to the man who'd given it to her. He'd asked for her friendship, and she'd promised herself she would contact him as a friend, rather than as someone in need of a favor, the next time they spoke. But the man had an arsenal in his Ferrari. "There is the guy I got the gun from. He has a lot of weapons. But I'm not sure it's fair for me to ask him to do this when he hardly knows me at all."

"Are you going to place your discomfort ahead of Grace's life?" Simon asked bluntly.

Brenda flinched. "No. Of course not. Oh, I see his Ferrari. He must be inside. Let's go find him."

She and Simon entered the club, and looked around for several minutes, but Brenda saw no sign of Matt Redmond. Finally, she led Simon back outside, and fished his card out of her pocket. "May I use your phone?"

Simon handed the phone to her.

The phone only rang one time, before she heard the unmistakable, gravelly voice answer. "Hello?"

"Matt? This is Brenda."

"Red."

She smiled self-consciously. He remembered her, then. She realized she hadn't been sure he would. He'd struck her as the sort of man who knew a lot of women, so what was one more? "Yeah. Listen, I'm sorry to do this, but I was hoping you might be able to help me find a little girl."

"The one you told me about before? Simmons? You know where she is?" He really had paid attention. Perhaps she'd misjudged him when she'd identified him as purely trouble.

"Yeah. Is there a way Simon and I could talk to you in person about it?"

"Sure. I'm upstairs at the club. When will you be here?"

"We're right outside."

"Okay. I'll see you in just a minute then, Red." There was a click.

Brenda handed Simon his phone. "Upstairs. I think he'll help."

"I heard," Simon told her as he slipped his phone into his pocket with a slight smirk. "Let's go."

Brenda wondered when she would get accustomed to the keen senses that came with being a Mekhet. It hadn't occurred to her that Simon would hear both ends of her conversation. She followed Simon through the club, relieved that he appeared to know where he was going as he led her into a back door she hadn't been through before, and up a flight of stairs to knock on a door at the top.

Liz answered, her blond hair in an unusual state of disarray, stepping aside with hardly a word, and certainly no smile.

Matt, on the other hand, offered Brenda a dazzling smile as he stood within, buttoning his shirt, hiding away dark chest hair.

Simon looked completely embarrassed, and Brenda didn't feel much better. It was obvious what she'd interrupted, but still, it was too important to wait. What she didn't quite understand was why Matt answered his phone if he'd been in bed with Liz. It seemed whatever they had going on, Liz was more invested in it than he was.

"So, where's the little girl? You know where she is?" Matt asked Brenda, giving Simon a polite nod.

"She's in a warehouse belonging to the Prince."

He nodded. "So, looks like it's finally time to make our move against him. All right. You'll want weapons, I take it? I'll call us some reinforcements. The Movement's just been waiting for the right time."


	15. War Party

Matt's reinforcements arrived within twenty minutes of his call. There'd been enough time for Liz to retreat into her bedroom, which still smelled of some sort of incense Brenda couldn't quite identify . . . jasmine, maybe? With some Lavender? Liz emerged in a low cut, red silk blouse, and a long black skirt with a slit that rode most of the way up her shapely leg. She was smiling and looked a bit friendlier than before, but Brenda sensed she was still irritated, and she couldn't really blame the woman.

Matt answered the door when the knock came, admitting two men, one with long blonde hair, and the other with a shaved head. Both looked like they were in their late twenties and were fairly good looking. "Brenda, Simon, this is Chad, my drummer," he said gesturing at the blond guy, "and Anton, my bassist."

Brenda frowned. She'd expected Matt's reinforcements to be soldiers. Or at least, something more than musicians. She could at least feel the taint of the predator in them, so maybe they could still fight a bit. "They're your band?"

Anton smiled at her. "We have weapons in the van."

"Oh."

"Guys, this is Simon, and Red . . . I mean, Brenda."

She considered saying it was fine to call her Red, but she decided against it. She liked Matt calling her that, and thought it would lose something if everyone else started to do it.

"Is this everyone?" Simon asked, looking around.

Chad nodded. "Afraid so."

"It'll be enough," Matt assured them. "We have s . . . Liz? You'll be joining us, right?"

Liz straightened, looking rather caught off guard. "Me? Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't think I'd be a lot of help."

"That's not true." Matt went to her side and put a hand on her arm. "I've seen you use a gun. You're a good shot. We could use you."

"I don't know . . ."

"We're friends, right? In this together?"

Liz sighed. "All right. I'll come."

Matt's smile would've made a mortal woman blush, Brenda was sure. Her initial assessment of him was right. He was trouble. But then, _she_ was the one instigating a revolution, wasn't she? Dying had changed everything.

"Let's go," Matt said, and the six rebels headed out the door.

They piled into a white van in the back of the parking lot. If not for all the weaponry contained inside, there should have been plenty of room for the six of them, but if wound up being rather crowded, and someone was going to have to sit on someone's lap. Brenda considered sitting on Simon's lap, despite the fact that his knees looked rather bony. She at least felt comfortable enough in close proximity to him.

"Why don't you come over here?" Liz asked her, reaching out a hand to steady Brenda as she climbed over the other passengers.

Brenda glanced at Simon, who simply nodded, and made her way to Liz's lap. The woman's arm went around Brenda's waist, and Simon pulled the door closed.

"So, where exactly are we going?" Chad asked as he turned the ignition. "Is there any way we can sneak up to this warehouse, rather than burst in through the front doors shooting?"

Brenda nodded. "There's a train yard nearby, and some steam tunnels underneath. There might be something that goes into it." She hadn't looked for it before, but it made sense now that she thought about it that the Prince must have taken Grace to the warehouse that way. She hadn't explored further in the tunnels after coming out. Not that it would have done much good. She couldn't have gotten into the warehouse without a warrant anyway.

As she directed Chad to the train yard, she wondered just how much danger they were about to go into. She was already terrified for herself, terrified just at the very thought of either of those Nosferatu. On top of it all, she wondered if she was about to get all of her companions killed too. Simon had already broken rules for her, for reasons she couldn't quite guess at. And Matt hardly knew her at all and was willing to start a revolution. She had to believe it was because he thought they could win. He did _seem _confident.

"Over here," she said as they pulled into the train yard. "Should be far enough away from the warehouse," she hoped.

Doors were opened, and Brenda climbed over Liz, carefully sliding herself out to stretch out her cramped legs. The others gathered their weapons infuriatingly slowly for Brenda's liking. She watched, trying to contain her impatience, and heard familiar steps come around to stand behind her, at the elbow. She didn't need to look to know Simon. For someone she knew so little, he was so completely familiar. She was comforted by the light brush of his hand against the back of her own. No words were needed. He couldn't tell her they would be all right. But she wasn't alone.

Doors slammed much more loudly than she would have liked. At last, she led the way in silence to the entrance to the steam tunnels. The group moved stealthily, but she didn't even need her vampiric senses in order to be aware of the soft crunching sound of gravel beneath shoes, and a faint sound of plastic brushing against plastic as her vinyl pant legs swished against one another.

She pushed open the door to the steam tunnels, wincing at the metallic groan. The darkness within was near complete. "We didn't bring flashlights, did we?" she asked quietly. There was a time when she'd never been without her flashlight. "I hope everyone can see in the dark."

She stepped in, and allowed her eyes to adjust in a way that they never would have in her breathing days, finding details in the shadows as the others followed her inside, Liz coming last, pulling the door closed behind her.

"This way," Brenda said, pointing down the tunnel in the direction she'd failed to explore. As she began to walk, she started to realize that the tunnel wasn't as dark as it ought to be. It wasn't merely her much keener eyesight. It really wasn't as dark as it ought to be. She glanced around, realizing everything was very subtly illuminated.

Eyeing the group, her gaze came to rest on Matt. He seemed somehow more visible than the rest of them. Most were shadowy silhouettes, but somehow, his features were much easier to make out. Was it because he was faintly glowing? The light didn't quite appear to be emanating from him. Was he responsible? Simon hadn't told her about vampires having the ability to create light, but surely there was still so much more he had to tell her. Matt's eyes met hers as she studied him. She'd read about people described as having a twinkle in their eyes, but she'd never seen one quite so literal before. He nodded ahead of them. She returned her focus to the goal at hand.

She pressed forward, and came to another door. It did seem to be in about the right area to be below the warehouse, as best she could tell without an actual map. They all stopped in front of it, and Brenda leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes to try to hear what was happening on the other side. Weapons were being loaded. Then came the even more audible sound of safeties being clicked off by the people right around her.

There were too many ways the Prince could have already been expecting them. He most likely had spies among the homeless in the train yard. Or maybe someone had been following her and Simon around. Or maybe Chad or Anton had betrayed them. She drew out her gun.

Simon reached out and took Brenda's elbow, gently drawing her to the back of the group, while Matt pushed his way to the front. He glanced back at the others, making sure they were all armed and ready, and then nodded. And then he opened the door.

Inside were two armed men Brenda didn't recognize, and the Hound who'd accosted her outside the library, unarmed. He smiled, seeming to look right at her. "You just made a big mistake," he told them.

"Sam, as usual, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into if you don't walk away right now," said Matt, who raised an arm, and was suddenly surrounded by an aura of bright, golden light.

Sam, the Hound, responded with an animalistic snarl as he began charging directly toward Matt. Brenda could now see that his fingertips ended in long, sharp-looking claws.

A moment later, bullets began flying.


	16. Saving Grace

Matt made himself easily the most visible target in the room, surrounded by his white glow, and the bullets just seemed to bounce off harmlessly off of him. His light evidently acted as armor.

Brenda and Simon both ducked behind separate shelves. Anton and Chad did the same, while Liz sped off running at ridiculously inhuman speed around the perimeter of the room. Matt stood in the center of the room, a beacon of light, firing at their enemies from the open. He fell back as Sam swiped at him, claws extended, just barely grazing across his stomach.

Brenda fired at Sam and hit his shoulder, and he hardly flinched. One of Sam's men, apparently realizing the bullets were bouncing uselessly off of Matt's light, took aim at Brenda through the shelf she hid behind, and fired.

Instinct took over then, as Brenda moved to dodge the bullet, she summoned up speed she was not capable of as a human. It was nothing compared to what Liz was doing, but it was enough to keep herself from being hit by the bullet. The power was in her blood, she realized. Doing so drained her a bit, but it was easy to do. Like the way she'd healed herself when Simon had taken her from the sewers, it was innate; she didn't need to be taught.

Brenda continued aiming her fire at Sam, while he swiped at Matt with his claws. She continued using her blood to increase her speed so that she could continue to dodge bullets. One still managed to just hit the top of her shoulder. It hurt a bit, but hardly what she would normally have expected from a bullet wound. At least that part of the vampire movies was correct. Which made her wonder what good she was doing against Sam.

He did appear hurt. He was being fired upon from all directions, including Matt from point blank range. And his gun was much bigger than Brenda's. And the bullet did hurt a little. Perhaps they weren't entirely worthless. She hoped.

As she and her allies fired upon Sam, the other two fired upon them. As she kept fairly decent cover behind the shelf, one of them came out and aimed at Simon, unloading his full clip directly at him, despite the fact that Sam was partly in the way.

Brenda screamed as the torrent of bullets flew at her Sire, but a few months later, as Sam fell, Simon was only wincing a little. He looked a bit shaken, but not terribly hurt as far as Brenda could tell. She didn't have time to go to him to find out for certain.

It didn't take long to dispatch the other two. By the time it was over Brenda found herself tired and hungry. Sam and his allies lay on the floor, motionless, appearing utterly dead. She wondered if they really were. There was still so much she didn't know about their condition. But now wasn't the time. She ran to Simon and found that he had a couple of minor wounds that, had she not known better, she never would have thought they seemed like bullet wounds.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

Matt, Liz, Anton and Chad were lifting guns from the bodies. Matt then came and handed Brenda another pistol. "We better move. Which way?"

Brenda looked around. She had no idea. At this point, Grace could be anywhere. So could the Prince. She headed toward the door on her left, the others trailing behind her. Anton was closest to her heels as she stepped through the doorway. Just out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a tiny red dot of light, and she realized she'd made a mistake. "Stop!" She whirled around, but a metal door slammed shut, shutting her into the unexplored hallway along with Anton.

"Shit," he muttered.

The two of them began examining the door, but couldn't figure out a way to open it. There appeared to be a magnetic sensor. They probably needed a magnetic key card. Brenda weighed the notion of shouting to the others against keeping silent. After all the gunfire, it was hardly a secret that they were there. "Can you see a mechanism to open the door from that side?" Brenda called out. Maybe one of the bodies had an access card on it.

"No!" Simon yelled back. "I think we're gonna have to split up! You two see if you can find another exit!"

"Okay! Be careful!"

She squinted in the dark hallway, waiting as her eyes adjusted and she began to make it out. She wasn't comfortable left alone with a man she barely knew at all. She tried to tell herself that she'd only known _any_ of them for a few days. But she at least felt like she knew Simon already. Despite his reluctance to tell her anything much about himself. This man was a stranger. A man loyal to someone who dealt in illegal weapons. A man loyal to someone who was taking great risk for Brenda when he didn't have to.

She crept down the hallway slowly. Anton was fairly quiet, but not as stealthy as her. She could hear his shoes faintly as he walked.

They eventually came to a stairway leading down. It came to a landing with a door at it, and then the stairs continued further down into darkness. They paused at the door. There was another magnetic sensor on the wall next to it. No handle. Brenda pushed on it just in case, to no avail, but as she stood examining it, she became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. "Someone's coming this way," she whispered.

Anton nodded, gesturing for her to move to the side of the door, just two steps down. He stood on the other side, and they both waited.

The door opened, and a middle-aged, uniformed, African-American man stepped out. He was holding a gun in his hand, finger right next to the trigger.

Brenda was just wondering if perhaps some alarm had been set when Anton leapt onto the security guard. The gun went off once before it was dropped to the floor and Anton, snarling, sank his fangs into the unfortunate guard's neck.

She watched as Anton drank the man's blood, wondering what she should do. She wasn't certain Anton was going to stop. Should she try to stop him? _Could_ she even pull him off of the other man? And if she could, would Anton simply attack her for her blood?

She decided she couldn't run the risk of letting the man be killed. She took a step toward the two of them and reached for Anton. But her companion withdrew from the man, running his tongue over the wound. The security guard was limp in his arms as Anton lowered him to the floor and began rifling through his pockets, lifting a white card that Brenda hoped was a magnetic security card. "He'll be all right, once he's slept it off."

"Okay." She picked up the gun.

They continued down the stairs, and at the bottom of the next flight, there was another door. They could try the door or continue down into the darkness. There was faint light coming from the other side of the door, and the faint sound of music. "Let's try the door," she suggested to Anton. She wasn't sure what the most likely choice was, but she didn't like the look of the darkness below. Besides, perhaps if someone was in there, they could be questioned about Grace.

Anton waved the card in front of the sensor. There was an alarmingly loud _beep_ and a tiny, impossibly bright green light appeared on it, invading the oppressive darkness. Brenda tried the door handle, and it turned. She opened it slowly. After they'd both stepped through, she closed it behind them as quietly as possible.

They moved down the hall. Aside from the music, it seemed fairly quiet and empty. They passed a door that had a window in it after peeking inside and finding it dark and empty. The source of the music seemed to be coming from a similar door. As they approached it, a bullet burst through the little window, shattering it. Brenda and Anton both dropped to the ground at first, and then both moved to either side of the door, reaching out with their guns to return fire through the small window.

Brenda and Anton both fired twice inside, and another bullet came out, but after Brenda's second shot she heard a cry. She met Anton's eyes for a moment, and then flung the door open, pointing her gun in at an elderly man in uniform. "Your gun. Kick it over here or I'll shoot again," she ordered.

He obeyed, and Brenda approached him warily, continuing to keep the gun trained on him. She examined him for other weapons, found one wedged beneath him, and slid it across the floor toward Anton. The wound was in his leg.

"I'm going to have to tourniquet this. You'll live," she told him. "Do you know if a little girl is being kept here?"

"Little girl? I don't know what you're talking about. Please just leave me alone! You already shot me!"

"You shot first!" she snapped as she worked to stave off the bleeding so that he might live long enough to get adequate medical attention. "I'm here looking for a little girl. Do you know where she is!"

"No!" He looked as if he was about to begin to sob.

Brenda found herself hardening in response to the man's want of pity. "Your employer is a kidnapper and a rapist. If you have any decency in you at all, you'll quit." The words came out like drops of acid, and only made her feel even angrier.

He shook his head. "No, he's a good man. You're wrong about him. He would never hurt anyone."

"Unless your employer is someone else's puppet, you're wrong," she snarled. "And what kind of man would have you shoot before you even see who's coming?"

"You're intruders!"

"Trying to find a missing child!"

"Please just go!"

"Fine. Remember what I told you. Find another job." She turned away from him and stalked out of the room. Anton wouldn't meet her eyes as she came out. And that was fine with her.

As they went out, Brenda could hear approaching footsteps, soft ones. She looked around, and there was nowhere to go except to duck back into the room they'd just come out of. For an instant she considered doing that, but doubted they'd be able to get to the guard and clap a hand to his mouth before he could shout.

Her concerns were alleviated when the figure of Liz rounded the corner. She sighed with relief upon seeing the two of them. Anton gestured for them to move back toward the stairs before anyone spoke.

"Where are the others?" Brenda asked.

"I don't know. I got cut off from them, the same way you two were. I was afraid I'd never find any of you." She swallowed. "I had to kill a man," she added in a thick, shaky voice.

Brenda nodded quietly. "I'm sorry."

"There was no choice. He was shooting at me. I didn't mean to, I only meant to stop him."

Brenda put a hand awkwardly on the other woman's shoulder. She didn't know what else to say to her.

"Which way?" Anton asked.

Brenda eyed the darkness with trepidation. "Probably down," she said reluctantly.

The three slowly descended the dark staircase, passing a few landings on the way. The air began to smell mustier, and things looked a lot less finished and a lot less attended the further down they went. Eventually, Brenda thought she could hear a faint dripping sound. She felt a tightness in her chest, remembering the sound of dripping water when she'd been held captive. Were they nearing that place?

The bottom of the stairs was almost completely dark, but Liz held onto a small green light that was attached to her key chain. Brenda didn't like the light potentially alerting anyone to their whereabouts, but the only other option was to go blindly, and that simply would not work.

It smelled damp down there as they made their way down the dark hallway. Brenda's hand trembled, so she slipped her gun into her pocket. She feared they were getting close, and as much as she wanted to rescue Grace, she didn't want to confront the Nosferatu. She'd never felt fear like this before. Even greater than the fear of what he was doing to her then was the fear that she might suffer the same or worse again.

They reached a portion of wall that was broken away. Bricks and rubble littered the floor in piles, and there was a horrific smell on the other side. Brenda stepped over the rubble carefully, maneuvering to the other side of the broken wall, where her feet splashed in about a half an inch of water covering the ground.

She looked around herself. There was dried blood on the walls. A rat shied away from Liz's light, and there was a pile of _something_ just a bit further in. Brenda approached, and put a shaking hand to her mouth as she realized the source of the smell. It was a broken, mangled body, small, with filthy clothes hanging from the rotting flesh in ribbons. It appeared that most of its face had been torn away. There were bite marks all over the rotting flesh where rats and perhaps worse, had gnawed at her. She had to have been dead for several days.

She made a choking sound as she stared at the body of what had to be Grace Simmons, her purpose, the one who would have redeemed her and made her pain worthwhile, tortured, dead and rotting.

And then she screamed in pain as something ripped through her chest. Suddenly before her she faced Axiom, his twisted, lipless face grimacing as he drove a sword straight into Brenda, running her through completely, and then tearing it out just as violently. The very instant he withdrew his blade, he vanished before her eyes.

From there, Brenda was lost within a frenzy of animalistic terror. She fled. All she knew was fleeing. She had to escape him, the horror worse than any horror she'd ever experienced or imagined in her life. Axiom was the one. The beast inside her had recognized him even though she herself had not. Her only option was to flee.

She collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, vaguely aware that she was sobbing. And she couldn't stop. She shuddered, forcing her blood to knit her injuries, trying to will herself to get up, to go back. Where were Liz and Anton?

Liz was there, then, her hands on Brenda's shoulders. "Are you all right? What happened? You just started screaming?"

"It was him. It was Axiom. He was the one," Brenda told her.

"What? When?"

"Didn't you see him?" she asked. Could Liz have failed to notice him? Where was he now? He could be anywhere, waiting to lunge at them again.

"I didn't see anyone."

"He could be around here right now," Brenda said, eyeing the shadows around them. "Where's Anton?"

"He fled the opposite direction. I didn't see what set the two of you off."

"We have to go find him."

"Are you nuts? Look at yourself! What did that to you?" Liz asked, touching Brenda's wound lightly.

"Axiom. I told you."

Liz nodded, but her gaze moved past Brenda, to the stairs behind her.

Brenda turned, and saw Matt and Simon coming downward.

"Are you all right? What happened?" Simon hurried down to crouch next to Brenda, taking her hand into one of his, and brushing her hair away from her face with the other.

"It was Axiom," Brenda told him. "He killed Grace. She's dead. And Anton's missing. We have to go after him."

Matt was shaking his head. "It's probably too late for Anton. We'll never find him in time if Axiom's disappeared. At any rate, the Prince is dead. It's time to get out of hear."

"Where's Chad?"

"Dead," Simon said softly, helping Brenda to her feet. "Can you stand?"

"Yes."

Liz followed behind Matt, while Brenda walked at his side with Simon's hand on her waist holding her steady.

"Anton and Chad were devoted to this cause. It's how they wanted to give their lives," Matt told her. "The city is free now. I'm left to wonder about the cost." Brenda could see that his eyes were rimmed with red, and he wouldn't meet anyone's gaze. "Let's go."


	17. Epilogue

Simon's hand was cool and comforting in Brenda's own. She stood a bit behind him, hoping it wasn't entirely obvious that she was hiding behind him. There were so many faces she didn't know, and they all frightened her. They'd come from all around the Denver Metro area, from Boulder, and perhaps further north. She wasn't sure. She was surrounded by predators, and every last one of them felt stronger than her. Because among them, she was a babe. She was prey. Of course, she always had been. She'd just been unaware of it before.

She felt small and weak and vulnerable. But Simon's hand in her own promised a future. She was weak now, but she would grow strong. She was afraid, but she would relearn bravery. She was devastated now, but she would heal. Because that's what people do. Unlike Grace, she had the time to do this.

They had come, gathered at Matt's summon, mainly. They would choose a new leader, there in the back room of Liz's club. Brenda's eyes scanned the room. They'd always been sharp, but not like this. She could spot every familiar face. Morgan, not far away, a reassuring presence. Sanji with his student, Sasha. The other Sasha, the one with the claws, she wasn't there. Matt and Liz, surrounded by strangers. His men, his revolutionaries, she guessed. Bethany smiled and talked emptily with Matt's associates. Sycophantic. That was how it struck Brenda. What was the color of sycophantic? Now wasn't the time to ask Simon.

Color swirled around them. Bethany was surrounded by pale blue, Matt with yellow. Brenda knew yellow. Idealism. Weird for an illegal arms dealer. But Matt was pretty weird. Hard to figure out. He'd given her a job, working as a receptionist in his studio. It was an easy job, and the people she worked with were interesting and fun. But there was no reward in it like her old job. Other than helping to pay Simon's rent. Not having to wear his Sire's old clothes. With the small advance Matt had given her when she began, she'd bought her own underwear. It was amazing how much value that had to her now that she'd had to go without. Besides, she didn't want to be a freeloader. She might be a babe among vampires, but she was still an adult, and she would earn her own way.

The important thing, the reason Brenda was able to be there, clinging to Simon while peering around his scrawny form, was that there were no Nosferatu in the room. And, Matt had promised her, there were no Invictus. Simon had gently mentioned something about not all Nosferatu behaving like the monsters they looked like, and not all Invictus completely lacking a shred of humanity. And in the abstract, Brenda could accept this. But it was going to be a long time before she could be around either of those without wanting to run and hide. She wasn't sure she'd _ever_ be able to trust either.

"I think everyone's here who's gonna be here," said Liz, raising her voice. She stood at Matt's side, close enough that she was touching, but he wasn't looking at her. He hardly seemed to notice her. His gaze swept the room, making eye contact with everyone there individually. The chatter died down, and then Liz continued. "The tyranny we endured under Prince Rex is at an end. And it's time to do this right. This time, we'll elect a new Prince, and every one of us gets a voice for a change. Most of you know by now that Matt Redmond stands for Prince. Is there anyone else?"

"I do." The voice was clear, feminine and confident.

Brenda turned, wide-eyed, to see Morgan step into the middle of the room, her stature one of defiance, not unlike the way she had approached the late Prince Rex.

Matt nodded politely, and Brenda imagined he'd just assessed his opponent and dismissed her.

"Is there anyone else? Any nominations, maybe?" Liz looked around.

"Sanji." Brenda didn't know why she had spoken up. Perhaps it was because she feared to vote for either Matt or Morgan, because she feared neither would forgive her. Matt who'd given her a job and risked his life for her cause, and Morgan who'd promised to teach her the Crone's secrets. Sanji was a safe, inoffensive choice. And he was wise, probably wiser than anyone else in there.

Simon's hand squeezed her own gently, and there were soft chuckles around the room. Matt's face twisted oddly, as if he were trying to suppress a smirk he just couldn't hold back. Yes, that was amusement in his aura. And everyone else's.

Sanji silently lowered his head and shook it slowly.

Brenda resisted the urge to slip completely behind Simon. She couldn't let them see her cower.

"Anyone else?" Liz called.

People looked at one another, and that was all.

"All right." Liz smiled. They looked like rock stars, she and Matt, surrounded by adoring fans. "All in favor of Morgan."

Apparently vampiric democracy didn't include secret ballots.

Simon's voice, along with a couple of others, rang out strong. "Aye." It wasn't enough. Unless the majority of the others abstained.

"And for Matt Redmond?"

"Aye." It was definitely most of the room that spoke for him. Brenda had remained silent, watching the process. She had to admit she felt a bit relieved. Matt would be a good Prince. The Carthian ideals made sense to Brenda, and she thought he'd be a fair and just leader. She wasn't so sure about Morgan.

"For Sanji?"

"Aye," Brenda said stubbornly, the sole voice in the room. She offered an embarrassed half-smile beneath a lowered gaze. She was surprised Liz had even bothered with that one.

"Well, the clear majority is for Matt," said Liz. "Citizens of Denver, I present your new Prince, Matt Redmond."

There were several hoots and cheers, from the Boulder folk mostly, Brenda thought. She allowed herself to smile.

"For my first order," Matt said without delay, "I'd like to declare this building an official Elysium, and name Liz my Keeper. Things are going to be different here, I promise you that."

Morgan took a step toward Matt, and to Brenda she seemed full of malevolence. "You make your changes. Realize your Carthian utopian dream. But remember, to be a truly good prince, you must also possess the strength to defend and keep your position."

The room went silent. Matt stood with a smile frozen on his face, discomfort obvious in his features. Everyone watched as Morgan turned around and slowly walked out of the room. Her eyes met Brenda's just once, and when they did, the High Priestess smiled.


End file.
